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 Haiti and from Seoul.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Magma to the grime 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 The Gladiators. All the underground hits.
All Crooked Eye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bush Tetras 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Youth Brigade,
Outsiders,
Erasure,
Brick,
Radiopuhelimet,
Skarface,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Infiniti,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Crispian St. Peters,
Rosa Yemen,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Mad Mike,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Accadde A,
Althea and Donna,
Whodini,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Monks,
Jeff Lynne,
The Birthday Party,
Lungfish,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Flesh Eaters,
Absolute Body Control,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Moss Icon,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Bobby Byrd,
Fatback Band,
Eve St. Jones,
Pussy Galore,
Desert Stars,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Sonics,
James White and The Blacks,
John Holt,
Boredoms,
Simply Red,
Blancmange,
Radiohead,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Nik Kershaw,
ABC,
H. Thieme,
Minutemen,
Joey Negro,
Mo-Dettes,
The Mojo Men,
The Mummies,
Sonny Sharrock,
Letta Mbulu,
Newcleus,
Deakin,
Alison Limerick,
Laurel Aitken,
Rod Modell,
The Electric Prunes,
The Slackers,
Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana.
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.