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 Angola and from Shanghai.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 PIL to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All Smog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultra Naté record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nik Kershaw,
The Modern Lovers,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Knickerbockers,
Kayak,
Connie Case,
Lightning Bolt,
Bizarre Inc.,
David Axelrod,
John Holt,
MDC,
Piero Umiliani,
Lalo Schifrin,
Chris Corsano,
Suburban Knight,
Tears for Fears,
The Monochrome Set,
Model 500,
the Soft Cell,
Scott Walker,
The Cowsills,
Make Up,
The Offenders,
Bad Manners,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Janne Schatter,
Can,
Audionom,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Harpers Bizarre,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Warren Ellis,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Japan,
Television,
The Sound,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Oneida,
Gerry Rafferty,
Stockholm Monsters,
Mo-Dettes,
Inner City,
Ronnie Foster,
The Young Rascals,
Bill Wells,
L. Decosne,
Pussy Galore,
Interpol,
Anthony Braxton,
The Motions,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Camberwell Now,
Mars,
ABBA,
The Divine Comedy,
Half Japanese,
Bootsy Collins,
Underground Resistance,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Moby Grape,
Sister Nancy,
The Selecter,
Gregory Isaacs,
Y Pants,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.