Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Tanzania and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing The Angels of Light to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Pere Ubu. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Seeds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a London Community Gospel Choir record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerrie Biddell,
F. McDonald,
Harmonia,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
X-Ray Spex,
Judy Mowatt,
Los Fastidios,
Pierre Henry,
The Stooges,
Unwound,
Subhumans,
Angry Samoans,
Suicide,
The Move,
Ice-T,
Basic Channel,
Chris Corsano,
The Last Poets,
Junior Murvin,
Davy DMX,
Cecil Taylor,
The Real Kids,
Dave Gahan,
Lakeside,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Nick Fraelich,
Tears for Fears,
Lou Christie,
The Remains,
48th St. Collective,
Sixth Finger,
Little Man,
Trumans Water,
Section 25,
James Chance & The Contortions,
the Bar-Kays,
Wasted Youth,
Moby Grape,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Johnny Osbourne,
Sällskapet,
the Sonics,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Mad Mike,
Dennis Brown,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Jeru the Damaja,
Organ,
The Gap Band,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Blancmange,
Radiohead,
Sparks,
Gang Gang Dance,
Traffic Nightmare,
Neu!,
The Music Machine,
Severed Heads,
L. Decosne,
Fat Boys,
Von Mondo, Von Mondo, Von Mondo, Von Mondo.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.