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 Guinea-Bissau and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Tres Demented to the funk 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 Wings. All the underground hits.
All Johnny Osbourne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every B.T. Express 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ash Ra Tempel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Morten Harket,
Wings,
Pussy Galore,
Stetsasonic,
Ponytail,
Minnie Riperton,
John Cale,
T. Rex,
John Foxx,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Mummies,
The Invisible,
Motorama,
Outsiders,
Crime,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Shoche,
John Lydon,
Mandrill,
The Grass Roots,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Radiopuhelimet,
Dead Boys,
The Gun Club,
Gil Scott Heron,
X-102,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Flamin' Groovies,
Throbbing Gristle,
8 Eyed Spy,
Bush Tetras,
Sparks,
The New Christs,
Alice Coltrane,
Scion,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Banda Bassotti,
DJ Style,
Stereo Dub,
Dawn Penn,
Bobby Sherman,
Eurythmics,
Sam Rivers,
Lou Christie,
Nick Fraelich,
Lalann,
Amon Düül,
The Move,
Bob Dylan,
Fela Kuti,
Young Marble Giants,
Essential Logic,
the Normal,
Niagra,
Gang Starr,
A Certain Ratio,
Loose Ends,
Ituana,
The Martian,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Anakelly,
The Wake, The Wake, The Wake, The Wake.
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.