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 Mauritius and from Spokane.
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 New York and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the snare 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 These Immortal Souls to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smoke record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lightning Bolt,
Byron Stingily,
Ultimate Spinach,
Nik Kershaw,
Kool Moe Dee,
Marmalade,
The Cure,
Lindisfarne,
Wally Richardson,
The Slackers,
Sexual Harrassment,
Suburban Knight,
The Young Rascals,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Dave Gahan,
Glambeats Corp.,
Bauhaus,
Janne Schatter,
Urselle,
Sun City Girls,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Arcadia,
Fela Kuti,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Tres Demented,
The Flesh Eaters,
Joensuu 1685,
Little Man,
Minutemen,
The Gladiators,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Deadbeat,
Warren Ellis,
The Real Kids,
Inner City,
Dorothy Ashby,
Accadde A,
Half Japanese,
Black Pus,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Ken Boothe,
Fad Gadget,
Main Source,
Aswad,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Unrelated Segments,
The Golliwogs,
Alton Ellis,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Grauzone,
Lungfish,
Television Personalities,
The Dave Clark Five,
Symarip,
Suicide,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Reagan Youth,
Jeff Mills,
China Crisis,
Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy.
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.