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 Qatar and from Edmonton.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the guitar 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 Beasts of Bourbon to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Marine Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharoah Sanders record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spoonie Gee 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?
Sparks,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
June Days,
Al Stewart,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Goldenarms,
World's Most,
New Order,
Soulsonic Force,
Sister Nancy,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Roxette,
Ralphi Rosario,
Lou Christie,
Eric Copeland,
Janne Schatter,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Rod Modell,
Sun Ra,
Negative Approach,
Inner City,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
EPMD,
8 Eyed Spy,
Chrome,
Fad Gadget,
The Names,
Jesper Dahlback,
Gil Scott Heron,
Tim Buckley,
Television Personalities,
DJ Style,
The Flesh Eaters,
Maurizio,
MDC,
Fear,
Joensuu 1685,
Man Eating Sloth,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Dual Sessions,
Public Enemy,
Big Daddy Kane,
Erasure,
Lou Reed,
Rekid,
Kevin Saunderson,
Cluster,
Don Cherry,
K-Klass,
Funkadelic,
The Litter,
Agitation Free,
Flamin' Groovies,
Tubeway Army,
Deepchord,
Agent Orange,
Tomorrow,
Scion,
Whodini,
Peter & Gordon,
Panda Bear,
Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma.
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.