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 Burundi and from New York.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 marimba 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 Liliput to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Alton Ellis. All the underground hits.
All Tim Buckley tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Trojans 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pantytec,
Sex Pistols,
CMW,
Infiniti,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Mission of Burma,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Move,
The Searchers,
John Foxx,
Theoretical Girls,
Dave Gahan,
Todd Rundgren,
Minny Pops,
Quando Quango,
Stereo Dub,
Kevin Saunderson,
Ornette Coleman,
Arab on Radar,
The Slackers,
Buzzcocks,
The Busters,
Siglo XX,
Vladislav Delay,
Matthew Halsall,
Hashim,
Jandek,
The Monks,
kango's stein massive,
Nik Kershaw,
Procol Harum,
Lakeside,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Avey Tare,
Wire,
Pole,
Scientists,
New Order,
The Knickerbockers,
David Axelrod,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Brand Nubian,
Anakelly,
Model 500,
Audionom,
The Human League,
The Seeds,
Blancmange,
Supertramp,
Funkadelic,
Marshall Jefferson,
Traffic Nightmare,
Groovy Waters,
Gang Gang Dance,
Mars,
The American Breed,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Oblivians,
Pere Ubu,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Fire Engines,
Leonard Cohen,
Bobby Byrd,
Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners.
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.