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 Uruguay and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Red Krayola to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Black Pus. All the underground hits.
All Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brick 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Certain Ratio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harmonia,
Barry Ungar,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Charles Mingus,
The Residents,
Scientists,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Vainqueur,
Harry Pussy,
Dead Boys,
Make Up,
Jeff Mills,
Jandek,
Sugar Minott,
Steve Hackett,
Bauhaus,
Jawbox,
Scrapy,
Blake Baxter,
Unwound,
Faraquet,
The American Breed,
Susan Cadogan,
Royal Trux,
John Coltrane,
John Holt,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Gories,
The J.B.'s,
Marine Girls,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Los Fastidios,
Little Man,
Excepter,
The Last Poets,
The Neon Judgement,
Darondo,
Toni Rubio,
Popol Vuh,
R.M.O.,
48th St. Collective,
Bush Tetras,
T.S.O.L.,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Flesh Eaters,
Young Marble Giants,
Soft Cell,
The Associates,
Gang Starr,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Sound,
Avey Tare,
Minnie Riperton,
The Techniques,
Sonic Youth,
Qualms,
Gang of Four,
Boz Scaggs,
Minor Threat,
The Evens, The Evens, The Evens, The Evens.
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.