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 Somalia and from Cairo.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the 808 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 Amon Düül II to the disco 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 Lalo Schifrin. All the underground hits.
All the Germs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-Ray Spex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 a sitar and a snare 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 rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Angels of Light,
Crispy Ambulance,
Audionom,
Scrapy,
Scott Walker,
The Last Poets,
Agitation Free,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Fire Engines,
Roger Hodgson,
Buzzcocks,
Slave,
Circle Jerks,
The Durutti Column,
Faraquet,
Public Enemy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Parry Music,
Gang Starr,
Morten Harket,
Desert Stars,
Throbbing Gristle,
ABBA,
Electric Prunes,
Pylon,
Rakim,
The Searchers,
Minor Threat,
The Real Kids,
Sun City Girls,
Boredoms,
Babytalk,
Delon & Dalcan,
KRS-One,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Trojans,
Bush Tetras,
Hasil Adkins,
Dave Gahan,
the Bar-Kays,
Janne Schatter,
Easy Going,
Spandau Ballet,
Ponytail,
The Martian,
Masters at Work,
Magazine,
Lou Reed,
Dead Boys,
Joy Division,
The Skatalites,
AZ,
Angry Samoans,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Human League,
Severed Heads,
Danielle Patucci,
Jawbox,
Mark Hollis,
Chris Corsano,
Hashim, Hashim, Hashim, Hashim.
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.