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 Vanuatu and from Lille.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Rapeman to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Grauzone. All the underground hits.
All Pole tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Duran Duran record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Trumans Water,
The Dave Clark Five,
the Slits,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Lyres,
The Litter,
Y Pants,
Black Pus,
Subhumans,
Metal Thangz,
Slick Rick,
June Days,
Fear,
Pole,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Raincoats,
Can,
T.S.O.L.,
Terry Callier,
The Associates,
Big Daddy Kane,
Shoche,
John Holt,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Detroit Cobras,
Whodini,
The Standells,
Josef K,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Pharoah Sanders,
Mandrill,
Cybotron,
Spandau Ballet,
Mary Jane Girls,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Susan Cadogan,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Warren Ellis,
The Zeros,
The Evens,
The Seeds,
Flipper,
Cluster,
Johnny Osbourne,
Fat Boys,
Kenny Larkin,
Erasure,
Alice Coltrane,
The Five Americans,
Nirvana,
The Beau Brummels,
Massinfluence,
Cal Tjader,
Unwound,
ABBA,
Joey Negro,
Model 500,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Thee Headcoats,
Scion, Scion, Scion, Scion.
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.