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 Gabon and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 spring reverb 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 Anthony Braxton to the grunge 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 Main Source. All the underground hits.
All 8 Eyed Spy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Junior Murvin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 a sitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Iggy Pop record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Don Cherry,
Adolescents,
Steve Hackett,
Wasted Youth,
Skriet,
Jeff Lynne,
Duran Duran,
Crime,
Hot Snakes,
Shoche,
Blake Baxter,
Gastr Del Sol,
Cecil Taylor,
The Stooges,
Theoretical Girls,
Sex Pistols,
Franke,
Kas Product,
Hashim,
Jeff Mills,
Piero Umiliani,
Heaven 17,
Peter & Gordon,
Unwound,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Scientists,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
This Heat,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Divine Comedy,
The Walker Brothers,
Bad Manners,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Maurizio,
Grey Daturas,
The Monks,
These Immortal Souls,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Selecter,
Warren Ellis,
Deakin,
Joe Smooth,
Hasil Adkins,
Desert Stars,
Motorama,
Sexual Harrassment,
R.M.O.,
Radio Birdman,
Flash Fearless,
The Fortunes,
Pantytec,
Fela Kuti,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Pussy Galore,
Masters at Work,
Iggy Pop,
Au Pairs,
Alison Limerick,
Altered Images,
Ornette Coleman,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
La Düsseldorf, La Düsseldorf, La Düsseldorf, La Düsseldorf.
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.