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 Honduras and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 oboe 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 Al Stewart to the techno 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 Neu!. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tubeway Army 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 theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Parry Music record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glenn Branca,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Barrington Levy,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
John Holt,
Colin Newman,
Eddi Front,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Crooked Eye,
Bang On A Can,
Grandmaster Flash,
Bill Wells,
the Soft Cell,
Suicide,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Rufus Thomas,
Bootsy Collins,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Wolf Eyes,
the Swans,
Spoonie Gee,
Cal Tjader,
Fugazi,
The Slits,
The Barracudas,
Wire,
Joe Smooth,
DNA,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Lalo Schifrin,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Bush Tetras,
CMW,
Peter & Gordon,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Pagans,
Avey Tare,
John Coltrane,
Gang of Four,
Ossler,
Carl Craig,
Warsaw,
Yazoo,
The Gun Club,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Grey Daturas,
Neil Young,
Sun City Girls,
Stiv Bators,
Brass Construction,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Pretty Things,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Soft Machine,
Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape.
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.