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 Gambia and from Mexico City.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 snare 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 Henry Cow to the punk 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 Sister Nancy. All the underground hits.
All Rapeman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Letta Mbulu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Junior Murvin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lucky Dragons,
Terry Callier,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Joey Negro,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Kinks,
The Human League,
The Techniques,
Malaria!,
Minny Pops,
Robert Görl,
Aaron Thompson,
Harmonia,
Moss Icon,
Dead Boys,
Fela Kuti,
Robert Hood,
The Monks,
Deakin,
The Cure,
Eddi Front,
Liliput,
The Saints,
This Heat,
Boogie Down Productions,
Juan Atkins,
Hashim,
Motorama,
Grandmaster Flash,
Stereo Dub,
Jimmy McGriff,
New Age Steppers,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
AZ,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Music Machine,
Kurtis Blow,
OOIOO,
Boz Scaggs,
The Gories,
The American Breed,
Aural Exciters,
The Buckinghams,
10cc,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Subhumans,
Andrew Hill,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Mad Mike,
Fort Wilson Riot,
T.S.O.L.,
June of 44,
Blancmange,
Johnny Osbourne,
kango's stein massive,
Chris Corsano,
Lungfish,
Howard Jones,
Japan,
Soft Machine,
Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord.
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.