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 Zimbabwe and from Sao Paulo.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 theremin 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 The Seeds to the punk 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 Surgeon. All the underground hits.
All The Monochrome Set tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Don Cherry 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Babytalk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Cell,
Glambeats Corp.,
Infiniti,
Fela Kuti,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Blues Magoos,
Morten Harket,
Donald Byrd,
Chrome,
Darondo,
John Holt,
Ultra Naté,
Ten City,
The Detroit Cobras,
R.M.O.,
World's Most,
Judy Mowatt,
Mary Jane Girls,
Bobby Sherman,
Theoretical Girls,
Marine Girls,
the Normal,
Jandek,
X-102,
The Angels of Light,
Zero Boys,
OOIOO,
Television,
Y Pants,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Moleskins,
Isaac Hayes,
Q and Not U,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bob Dylan,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Freddie Wadling,
Public Image Ltd.,
Faraquet,
Mr. Review,
Fat Boys,
T.S.O.L.,
Blossom Toes,
Marshall Jefferson,
Delta 5,
the Sonics,
Pierre Henry,
Don Cherry,
Agent Orange,
Boogie Down Productions,
Glenn Branca,
The Gladiators,
Mission of Burma,
E-Dancer,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Spoonie Gee,
Skarface,
Eve St. Jones,
Cecil Taylor,
Japan, Japan, Japan, Japan.
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.