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 Papua New Guinea and from Hong Kong.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Stetsasonic. All the underground hits.
All Fear tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon 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?
Whodini,
Carl Craig,
Aloha Tigers,
Ossler,
Desert Stars,
Donald Byrd,
Camouflage,
Ornette Coleman,
Black Bananas,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Searchers,
Ronan,
The Count Five,
Y Pants,
The Angels of Light,
The Birthday Party,
The Barracudas,
Yaz,
Khruangbin,
The Leaves,
Thompson Twins,
Scratch Acid,
Franke,
Magazine,
Maleditus Sound,
The Monochrome Set,
Banda Bassotti,
The Selecter,
Sun Ra,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
K-Klass,
Aswad,
Roger Hodgson,
Tom Boy,
Fatback Band,
Arab on Radar,
New Order,
Grauzone,
Crime,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Morten Harket,
Rotary Connection,
Half Japanese,
Cheater Slicks,
Adolescents,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Chris Corsano,
Colin Newman,
Soul II Soul,
Big Daddy Kane,
Peter & Gordon,
June of 44,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Pylon,
Surgeon,
Joey Negro,
Visage,
The Star Department,
Mantronix,
The Black Dice,
Man Parrish,
Nik Kershaw,
Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn.
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.