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 East Timor and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Michael McDonald 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 Siglo XX to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 X-101. All the underground hits.
All Barbara Tucker tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cramps 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kas Product record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Pop Group,
T. Rex,
Marmalade,
Grey Daturas,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Public Enemy,
Lyres,
Nico,
The Fuzztones,
New Age Steppers,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Tears for Fears,
Inner City,
The Golliwogs,
Jandek,
Simply Red,
David Bowie,
Iggy Pop,
Ponytail,
The Angels of Light,
The Fall,
Q65,
Ludus,
Blancmange,
Yellowson,
K-Klass,
Mad Mike,
Howard Jones,
Jerry's Kids,
Magma,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ronnie Foster,
Barbara Tucker,
Excepter,
Ronan,
The Busters,
Heaven 17,
Outsiders,
The Durutti Column,
David McCallum,
Lindisfarne,
X-101,
The Motions,
Tim Buckley,
Maleditus Sound,
Desert Stars,
Franke,
the Slits,
Surgeon,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Lou Christie,
Suburban Knight,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Sound Behaviour,
the Sonics,
The Barracudas,
Tomorrow,
Jacques Brel,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Saints,
Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill.
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.