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 Djibouti and from Hong Kong.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the guitar 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 Bad Manners to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All Alton Ellis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Surgeon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Porter Ricks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alison Limerick,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Hashim,
Henry Cow,
The Count Five,
Lungfish,
New Age Steppers,
Grandmaster Flash,
Saccharine Trust,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Monks,
Ituana,
Jacob Miller,
Kerri Chandler,
Flash Fearless,
Motorama,
Slick Rick,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Hasil Adkins,
Johnny Osbourne,
Sparks,
Pet Shop Boys,
AZ,
Isaac Hayes,
Archie Shepp,
Talk Talk,
The Divine Comedy,
Joensuu 1685,
cv313,
The Angels of Light,
Delon & Dalcan,
Kayak,
Funkadelic,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Panda Bear,
Steve Hackett,
Alphaville,
Unwound,
Jimmy McGriff,
Idris Muhammad,
Japan,
Don Cherry,
Wire,
The Index,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Crispy Ambulance,
Ultra Naté,
Arcadia,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Pere Ubu,
Echospace,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
DJ Style,
Nils Olav,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Leonard Cohen,
Unrelated Segments,
Michelle Simonal,
Drexciya,
Letta Mbulu,
Jeff Lynne,
the Normal, the Normal, the Normal, the Normal.
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.