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 Guinea and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Nation of Ulysses to the funk 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 Sonics. All the underground hits.
All Todd Rundgren tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Remains 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 guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Qualms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tropical Tobacco,
Smog,
These Immortal Souls,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Spoonie Gee,
Skriet,
Black Bananas,
Camouflage,
The Star Department,
The Tremeloes,
Jimmy McGriff,
John Foxx,
Freddie Wadling,
Ultra Naté,
The Flesh Eaters,
Derrick May,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Alarm Clocks,
Anakelly,
The Associates,
The Dirtbombs,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Stooges,
Stiv Bators,
Glambeats Corp.,
PIL,
Gerry Rafferty,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Angry Samoans,
The Techniques,
Public Enemy,
Theoretical Girls,
The Searchers,
Man Parrish,
Charles Mingus,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Jawbox,
Glenn Branca,
Procol Harum,
Lalann,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bob Dylan,
The Durutti Column,
Sun Ra,
Drexciya,
The Dead C,
Roy Ayers,
Erasure,
Second Layer,
Gang of Four,
June Days,
Pole,
Babytalk,
Slave,
Carl Craig,
Bluetip,
Unrelated Segments,
Dawn Penn,
Neil Young,
Robert Görl,
Radio Birdman,
Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going.
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.