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 United States and from Seoul.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 John Coltrane to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Index. All the underground hits.
All A Certain Ratio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vaughan Mason & Crew record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stiv Bators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
Black Sheep,
The Names,
Arthur Verocai,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Saints,
Jacob Miller,
Nick Fraelich,
Bad Manners,
Johnny Osbourne,
Rakim,
Wally Richardson,
Make Up,
Pantytec,
ABC,
Y Pants,
Kurtis Blow,
New Age Steppers,
Monolake,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Max Romeo,
Accadde A,
Parry Music,
Byron Stingily,
Visage,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Jeff Lynne,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Birthday Party,
KRS-One,
Josef K,
Eden Ahbez,
Swell Maps,
Niagra,
Terrestrial Tones,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The American Breed,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Mary Jane Girls,
Lou Christie,
Fugazi,
U.S. Maple,
Easy Going,
Minnie Riperton,
Lyres,
Tres Demented,
Avey Tare,
the Germs,
The Five Americans,
Roy Ayers,
Lebanon Hanover,
Index,
Minutemen,
The Evens,
Cybotron,
The Seeds,
Traffic Nightmare,
John Foxx,
Little Man,
Lee Hazlewood,
La Düsseldorf, La Düsseldorf, La Düsseldorf, La Düsseldorf.
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.