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 Sudan and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Barbara Tucker to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Gregory Isaacs. All the underground hits.
All Circle Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Hood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sister Nancy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
The Dead C,
Agent Orange,
Kurtis Blow,
Bronski Beat,
Pantytec,
The Buckinghams,
Motorama,
The Walker Brothers,
The Alarm Clocks,
John Lydon,
Soft Machine,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Graham Central Station,
Marshall Jefferson,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Motions,
Public Image Ltd.,
Audionom,
The Associates,
Howard Jones,
Skarface,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Smoke,
Jesper Dahlback,
Eric Copeland,
The Fire Engines,
U.S. Maple,
Bobby Byrd,
AZ,
Parry Music,
Thompson Twins,
Scrapy,
B.T. Express,
Sun City Girls,
Sexual Harrassment,
Young Marble Giants,
the Human League,
Swell Maps,
Spoonie Gee,
Gastr Del Sol,
Charles Mingus,
Von Mondo,
Blake Baxter,
New York Dolls,
The Saints,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Man Parrish,
Sonic Youth,
The Remains,
ABC,
Pussy Galore,
Wolf Eyes,
A Certain Ratio,
Funkadelic,
Tres Demented,
Byron Stingily,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish, Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish, Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish, Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish.
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.