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 Ethiopia and from Glasgow.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Mo-Dettes to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Vaughan Mason & Crew. All the underground hits.
All Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fifty Foot Hose 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eyeless In Gaza record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eden Ahbez,
The Dead C,
Johnny Clarke,
Metal Thangz,
Prince Buster,
Rites of Spring,
Anthony Braxton,
New Order,
Amon Düül,
Bluetip,
Ossler,
LL Cool J,
Franke,
Howard Jones,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Suburban Knight,
Alice Coltrane,
Quantec,
Yusef Lateef,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Selecter,
The Kinks,
The Dave Clark Five,
Bizarre Inc.,
Ultimate Spinach,
Glenn Branca,
Matthew Bourne,
Black Moon,
48th St. Collective,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Harry Pussy,
Darondo,
The Mummies,
The Young Rascals,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
MDC,
June Days,
The Human League,
Albert Ayler,
Don Cherry,
Lou Reed,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ultravox,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
T. Rex,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Lalann,
Erykah Badu,
Make Up,
Lucky Dragons,
Los Fastidios,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Model 500,
Scrapy,
Jimmy McGriff,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Gil Scott Heron,
Todd Rundgren,
Bauhaus,
Barclay James Harvest,
Nils Olav,
Skarface,
Pylon,
Blake Baxter,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.