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 Bangladesh and from Beijing.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Spandau Ballet to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Judy Mowatt. All the underground hits.
All Metal Thangz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lungfish 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The New Christs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dead Boys,
Michelle Simonal,
Supertramp,
UT,
Bad Manners,
The Shadows of Knight,
the Slits,
Unwound,
Joyce Sims,
Rekid,
Barry Ungar,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Pulsallama,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Todd Rundgren,
The New Christs,
John Lydon,
The Angels of Light,
Chris Corsano,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Byron Stingily,
the Germs,
L. Decosne,
Harmonia,
The Busters,
Bronski Beat,
Frankie Knuckles,
Yaz,
Stockholm Monsters,
Hasil Adkins,
June of 44,
Con Funk Shun,
Kerri Chandler,
The Moleskins,
Sixth Finger,
Gichy Dan,
Bobby Byrd,
The Invisible,
Warren Ellis,
Bobby Sherman,
the Soft Cell,
Unrelated Segments,
The Slits,
Trumans Water,
John Holt,
Scott Walker,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Donny Hathaway,
Joey Negro,
Wally Richardson,
Neu!,
Half Japanese,
Aaron Thompson,
the Sonics,
John Coltrane,
Maleditus Sound,
Roger Hodgson,
Easy Going,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.