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 Latvia and from Mumbai.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 Robert Palmer 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 Gang of Four to the jazz 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 Fort Wilson Riot. All the underground hits.
All Glenn Branca tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chris Corsano record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ohio Players record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
Fluxion,
Wally Richardson,
Yusef Lateef,
Monolake,
Max Romeo,
Simply Red,
The Gun Club,
Q65,
Robert Görl,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Albert Ayler,
PIL,
John Foxx,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Dennis Brown,
Dawn Penn,
Connie Case,
The Walker Brothers,
The Smoke,
The Martian,
The Alarm Clocks,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Theoretical Girls,
Darondo,
Masters at Work,
Cameo,
The Dirtbombs,
Goldenarms,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Skaos,
Trumans Water,
The Monochrome Set,
Smog,
Boredoms,
Interpol,
Nik Kershaw,
Pet Shop Boys,
Eric Dolphy,
Y Pants,
The Mummies,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Eve St. Jones,
Depeche Mode,
Underground Resistance,
Subhumans,
Half Japanese,
Nick Fraelich,
The Slits,
Ultimate Spinach,
Livin' Joy,
Nation of Ulysses,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Thompson Twins,
The Dead C,
The Index,
Crime,
Gastr Del Sol,
The American Breed,
Qualms,
Quando Quango,
Little Man,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.