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 Liberia and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Barrington Levy to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Qualms. All the underground hits.
All Roxy Music tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cure record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Tremeloes,
Mark Hollis,
Gastr Del Sol,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
China Crisis,
Fluxion,
Flamin' Groovies,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Radiopuhelimet,
Agent Orange,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Smiths,
X-102,
Con Funk Shun,
The Mojo Men,
Gabor Szabo,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Suburban Knight,
Motorama,
T. Rex,
Mad Mike,
Traffic Nightmare,
Pulsallama,
Roy Ayers,
The Victims,
Los Fastidios,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Mummies,
The United States of America,
Ossler,
Neil Young,
Gang Starr,
Erykah Badu,
John Lydon,
Kaleidoscope,
The Divine Comedy,
The Searchers,
Eric Dolphy,
The Busters,
Quantec,
Bad Manners,
The Electric Prunes,
Harpers Bizarre,
kango's stein massive,
X-101,
Maurizio,
Porter Ricks,
The Blackbyrds,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Walker Brothers,
New Order,
A Certain Ratio,
Scan 7,
Iggy Pop,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Fire Engines,
Crash Course in Science,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man 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.