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 Slovenia and from Lyon.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the güiro 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 Mr. Review to the disco 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 Pulsallama. All the underground hits.
All Johnny Osbourne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glenn Branca record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sällskapet,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Fluxion,
the Slits,
The Stooges,
Yazoo,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sandy B,
X-Ray Spex,
The Slits,
Jeff Lynne,
Minor Threat,
Be Bop Deluxe,
June of 44,
Radiohead,
Popol Vuh,
The Litter,
The Fortunes,
Public Enemy,
Soulsonic Force,
Kaleidoscope,
Sun City Girls,
Tim Buckley,
Quadrant,
The Wake,
Thompson Twins,
Robert Wyatt,
Sight & Sound,
Animal Collective,
Young Marble Giants,
The Slackers,
Spoonie Gee,
Lou Reed,
Patti Smith,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
the Fania All-Stars,
EPMD,
The Count Five,
Joey Negro,
Motorama,
Joensuu 1685,
Gerry Rafferty,
Charles Mingus,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Susan Cadogan,
Gong,
Flash Fearless,
Organ,
Piero Umiliani,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Moody Blues,
The Last Poets,
Swell Maps,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Vogues,
The Standells,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Quantec,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!.
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.