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 Lebanon and from Bologna.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang to the jazz 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 Bauhaus. All the underground hits.
All Whodini tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Curtis Mayfield record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Supertramp record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Slits,
Patti Smith,
The American Breed,
the Bar-Kays,
Sun Ra,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Television Personalities,
The Star Department,
The Doors,
Arab on Radar,
Jeff Mills,
Sex Pistols,
The Human League,
Gabor Szabo,
Scientists,
Prince Buster,
Eddi Front,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Cymande,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Terrestrial Tones,
Con Funk Shun,
The Dead C,
The Remains,
Livin' Joy,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Talk Talk,
The Offenders,
The Cure,
Monks,
Pussy Galore,
the Normal,
Stetsasonic,
Bobby Womack,
Marine Girls,
Sandy B,
Nik Kershaw,
Radio Birdman,
The Red Krayola,
The Detroit Cobras,
Yazoo,
Soul II Soul,
Pagans,
Marc Almond,
The Knickerbockers,
Swell Maps,
Carl Craig,
The Monochrome Set,
The Slackers,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
PIL,
Joe Smooth,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Unwound,
Depeche Mode,
Kevin Saunderson,
Jacques Brel,
Kenny Larkin,
Lyres, Lyres, Lyres, Lyres.
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.