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 Comoros and from Mumbai.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Five Americans to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Unwound. All the underground hits.
All Notorious Big And Bone Thugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Leaves record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Henry Cow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The J.B.'s,
Peter and Kerry,
Wings,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Fall,
Quando Quango,
Sandy B,
The Modern Lovers,
Lakeside,
Bootsy Collins,
The Human League,
John Coltrane,
June Days,
Mars,
Stereo Dub,
Dark Day,
Joe Smooth,
Eddi Front,
Swans,
Tropical Tobacco,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
X-101,
The Smiths,
Susan Cadogan,
Little Man,
Minor Threat,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Busters,
The Fuzztones,
Icehouse,
Pantytec,
Q65,
Mandrill,
B.T. Express,
Ituana,
Quantec,
EPMD,
Soft Machine,
The Five Americans,
Eve St. Jones,
June of 44,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Terry Callier,
Soulsonic Force,
Jeff Lynne,
Bobby Womack,
Visage,
Ronan,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Rufus Thomas,
Fatback Band,
Sex Pistols,
Lightning Bolt,
Ronnie Foster,
Danielle Patucci,
Von Mondo,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Bad Manners,
Urselle,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.