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 Uganda and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Mr. Review. All the underground hits.
All Soulsonic Force tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeff Lynne 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jesper Dahlback record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joe Smooth,
Eden Ahbez,
Basic Channel,
The Angels of Light,
Arthur Verocai,
The Human League,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Smoke,
The J.B.'s,
Malaria!,
Lakeside,
Arab on Radar,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
UT,
The Offenders,
Swell Maps,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Interpol,
Idris Muhammad,
Das Ding,
Barrington Levy,
Thee Headcoats,
K-Klass,
The Mummies,
The Young Rascals,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Glenn Branca,
Visage,
Q and Not U,
Sällskapet,
Rakim,
The Selecter,
R.M.O.,
Throbbing Gristle,
John Cale,
Underground Resistance,
Steve Hackett,
Bad Manners,
The Velvet Underground,
Intrusion,
Kas Product,
Connie Case,
Pussy Galore,
These Immortal Souls,
New York Dolls,
Aaron Thompson,
Ken Boothe,
Metal Thangz,
The Neon Judgement,
David Axelrod,
Niagra,
The Remains,
Dead Boys,
Henry Cow,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Rufus Thomas,
Surgeon,
Symarip,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe.
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.