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 South Sudan and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Alarm Clocks to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Gap Band. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hot Snakes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Star Department,
James White and The Blacks,
The Tremeloes,
The Divine Comedy,
Metal Thangz,
ABBA,
Crooked Eye,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Slackers,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Velvet Underground,
Bush Tetras,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Kaleidoscope,
the Normal,
Royal Trux,
Swell Maps,
Terrestrial Tones,
Marvin Gaye,
Cecil Taylor,
The Angels of Light,
Blake Baxter,
Man Parrish,
Youth Brigade,
Theoretical Girls,
John Coltrane,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Joe Smooth,
Ponytail,
Sister Nancy,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Basic Channel,
Minnie Riperton,
Lalann,
Cluster,
The Fire Engines,
T. Rex,
Moss Icon,
T.S.O.L.,
Byron Stingily,
Lou Christie,
Reuben Wilson,
Eurythmics,
The Associates,
Anakelly,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Soft Machine,
Ronnie Foster,
Niagra,
World's Most,
The Smiths,
Junior Murvin,
Neu!,
Lakeside,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Kurtis Blow,
Negative Approach,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Eden Ahbez,
Mandrill,
Kayak,
Josef K,
Eve St. Jones,
Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord.
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.