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 Ethiopia 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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 Robert Palmer 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 Searchers to the electroclash 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 Moby Grape. All the underground hits.
All Pierre Henry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Patti Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bang On A Can record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Reed,
Brothers Johnson,
OOIOO,
Popol Vuh,
Mission of Burma,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Anthony Braxton,
Talk Talk,
Television,
Mars,
The Victims,
The Buckinghams,
The Offenders,
Newcleus,
Bronski Beat,
Aural Exciters,
Accadde A,
Faust,
Saccharine Trust,
Fugazi,
Lightning Bolt,
Thee Headcoats,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Bobby Womack,
Bad Manners,
The Tremeloes,
Nirvana,
Interpol,
Supertramp,
H. Thieme,
The Toasters,
The Doobie Brothers,
Magma,
Chris Corsano,
Jacques Brel,
The Invisible,
Barry Ungar,
Dual Sessions,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Fela Kuti,
Camouflage,
The Slits,
Ronan,
Reagan Youth,
Altered Images,
Boogie Down Productions,
Danielle Patucci,
Essential Logic,
Lungfish,
Duran Duran,
Gerry Rafferty,
Delta 5,
DJ Sneak,
Ralphi Rosario,
Magazine,
Drexciya,
Infiniti,
JFA,
Ice-T,
Hoover,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Cybotron,
the Germs, the Germs, the Germs, the Germs.
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.