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 Indonesia and from Salvador.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 mellotron 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 Ossler to the grunge 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 Ultra Naté. All the underground hits.
All Rosa Yemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angels of Light & Akron/Family record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Evens record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dorothy Ashby,
Porter Ricks,
The Sound,
New Order,
Arthur Verocai,
The Standells,
Cheater Slicks,
Camouflage,
Ken Boothe,
Tommy Roe,
These Immortal Souls,
Andrew Hill,
Erasure,
The Smoke,
Pole,
Desert Stars,
The Slits,
The Trojans,
Harry Pussy,
The Leaves,
X-102,
Sällskapet,
Aloha Tigers,
The Smiths,
Dawn Penn,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Birthday Party,
Ralphi Rosario,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
the Fania All-Stars,
Pierre Henry,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Cowsills,
Absolute Body Control,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Vladislav Delay,
Ohio Players,
Wasted Youth,
Peter and Kerry,
Make Up,
Donny Hathaway,
The Last Poets,
the Slits,
X-Ray Spex,
Prince Buster,
Sister Nancy,
Black Bananas,
Negative Approach,
Bauhaus,
The Tremeloes,
Eve St. Jones,
Lungfish,
The Mummies,
The Techniques,
Letta Mbulu,
Stockholm Monsters,
Pere Ubu,
The Gap Band,
Carl Craig,
Mantronix,
Main Source,
New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls.
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.