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 Bahrain and from Philadelphia.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Wolf Eyes to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Neu!. All the underground hits.
All Fifty Foot Hose tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suicide record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Clear Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
PIL,
R.M.O.,
Tommy Roe,
Johnny Clarke,
Malaria!,
Camouflage,
DJ Sneak,
Chris Corsano,
The Slits,
Flipper,
Rosa Yemen,
Gang Green,
The Cramps,
The New Christs,
Tubeway Army,
Ituana,
Bang On A Can,
The Misunderstood,
Cluster,
Joey Negro,
Delta 5,
Grauzone,
Newcleus,
The Blues Magoos,
Terry Callier,
Gabor Szabo,
Avey Tare,
B.T. Express,
Gang Gang Dance,
Bush Tetras,
David McCallum,
June of 44,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Delon & Dalcan,
the Swans,
The Techniques,
Make Up,
Procol Harum,
The Grass Roots,
Basic Channel,
Glambeats Corp.,
Roxy Music,
Funky Four + One,
Nirvana,
Fat Boys,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Model 500,
Whodini,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Maurizio,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Chris & Cosey,
June Days,
the Fania All-Stars,
Das Ding,
Swans,
The Kinks,
X-Ray Spex,
The Saints, The Saints, The Saints, The Saints.
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.