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 Guatemala and from Toronto.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 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 Max Romeo to the crunk 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 The Velvet Underground. All the underground hits.
All The Blackbyrds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cluster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pantytec record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Toni Rubio,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Traffic Nightmare,
Intrusion,
Malaria!,
Cybotron,
Roxy Music,
Freddie Wadling,
Bobby Womack,
The Cramps,
Make Up,
Theoretical Girls,
Eurythmics,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Smoke,
Bronski Beat,
The Alarm Clocks,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
the Association,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Jacob Miller,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Gang of Four,
Masters at Work,
Drexciya,
Deakin,
The Names,
Sällskapet,
Minny Pops,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Pretty Things,
Rufus Thomas,
Parry Music,
Colin Newman,
Average White Band,
H. Thieme,
Terrestrial Tones,
Circle Jerks,
Bush Tetras,
Neil Young,
Babytalk,
The Fugs,
The Neon Judgement,
Scion,
Wolf Eyes,
The Buckinghams,
Marshall Jefferson,
Nik Kershaw,
Sight & Sound,
Shuggie Otis,
cv313,
Maurizio,
Los Fastidios,
Crispian St. Peters,
Rotary Connection,
Mantronix,
The Associates,
UT,
the Soft Cell,
The Flesh Eaters,
Scratch Acid,
Ornette Coleman,
Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell.
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.