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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Lagos.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Jacques Brel to the disco 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 Bill Near. All the underground hits.
All Barry Ungar tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gun Club 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Henry Cow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
The Toasters,
Barrington Levy,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Wake,
Quando Quango,
Deadbeat,
Sugar Minott,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Jeff Mills,
The Real Kids,
Agitation Free,
The Smoke,
Pussy Galore,
The Slackers,
Kerrie Biddell,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Leaves,
Traffic Nightmare,
Con Funk Shun,
Mad Mike,
The Vogues,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Nick Fraelich,
Blake Baxter,
Moby Grape,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Amon Düül,
Althea and Donna,
Wally Richardson,
Marmalade,
New York Dolls,
Rotary Connection,
Simply Red,
Lou Reed,
The Divine Comedy,
the Human League,
Urselle,
The Standells,
John Cale,
Joyce Sims,
The Birthday Party,
X-101,
The Evens,
Flipper,
Amon Düül II,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Section 25,
The Neon Judgement,
Bang On A Can,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Human League,
Howard Jones,
Ronnie Foster,
Swans,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Buzzcocks,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Nik Kershaw,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock.
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.