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 Congo and from Cairo.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 spring reverb 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 Ludus to the rock 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 Niagra. All the underground hits.
All Funky Four + One tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Echo & the Bunnymen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reuben Wilson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thee Headcoats,
The Kinks,
The Invisible,
The Toasters,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Gil Scott Heron,
Flamin' Groovies,
Half Japanese,
Maurizio,
The Gladiators,
Althea and Donna,
Warsaw,
Pulsallama,
Bootsy Collins,
Tres Demented,
Al Stewart,
The Star Department,
Alice Coltrane,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
John Cale,
Porter Ricks,
Pussy Galore,
Blossom Toes,
Prince Buster,
Dead Boys,
Malaria!,
Anakelly,
The Monochrome Set,
Crime,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Jimmy McGriff,
MDC,
Surgeon,
the Association,
David Axelrod,
Sonic Youth,
Marcia Griffiths,
Lightning Bolt,
Ken Boothe,
Television,
The Move,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Suicide,
Bill Near,
Blancmange,
Jacques Brel,
Zapp,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Thompson Twins,
8 Eyed Spy,
Susan Cadogan,
The Birthday Party,
Cluster,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Lakeside,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Marshall Jefferson,
Gang Gang Dance,
Dawn Penn,
Whodini, Whodini, Whodini, Whodini.
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.