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 Burundi and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Bootsy Collins to the rock 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 Robert Görl. All the underground hits.
All The Blackbyrds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Peanut Butter Conspiracy 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Lyres,
Rekid,
Lindisfarne,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sparks,
The Buckinghams,
Motorama,
Eric Copeland,
Nirvana,
Jandek,
Roxette,
Ten City,
Gabor Szabo,
Pussy Galore,
Interpol,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Nation of Ulysses,
Fad Gadget,
Subhumans,
Bang On A Can,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Con Funk Shun,
Saccharine Trust,
T.S.O.L.,
Alton Ellis,
Echospace,
Albert Ayler,
Frankie Knuckles,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Warsaw,
Simply Red,
Lou Christie,
Soft Cell,
New York Dolls,
World's Most,
Porter Ricks,
Bronski Beat,
Scrapy,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Television,
Hardrive,
David Bowie,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Sarah Menescal,
Bill Wells,
A Certain Ratio,
Lee Hazlewood,
Crooked Eye,
Bluetip,
Second Layer,
Symarip,
T. Rex,
James White and The Blacks,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Tubeway Army,
Wasted Youth,
Jeff Lynne,
AZ,
Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones.
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.