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 Serbia and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 güiro 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 a-ha to the rap 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 Gregory Isaacs. All the underground hits.
All Notorious Big And Bone Thugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bluetip record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lindisfarne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
The Toasters,
Marmalade,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Negative Approach,
Niagra,
Sex Pistols,
Morten Harket,
Rosa Yemen,
B.T. Express,
Kenny Larkin,
Monks,
The Standells,
Bobby Womack,
The Human League,
Deadbeat,
Cluster,
Scientists,
Maleditus Sound,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Fire Engines,
Godley & Creme,
Agent Orange,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Ponytail,
Lucky Dragons,
Lou Reed,
The Raincoats,
Ultra Naté,
the Normal,
Andrew Hill,
Hasil Adkins,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Sonics,
The Happenings,
Mantronix,
Amazonics,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Gang of Four,
Intrusion,
Bush Tetras,
The Zeros,
Schoolly D,
Make Up,
Yellowson,
Moss Icon,
Soft Cell,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Wire,
Yaz,
Symarip,
Hardrive,
Ohio Players,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Gastr Del Sol,
Pantytec,
Soul Sonic Force,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Interpol,
This Heat, This Heat, This Heat, This Heat.
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.