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 El Salvador and from Seoul.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Ronnie Foster to the punk 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 Eric B and Rakim. All the underground hits.
All Alice Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Be Bop Deluxe 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wasted Youth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Surgeon,
Aswad,
Nirvana,
Chris & Cosey,
Circle Jerks,
Barbara Tucker,
Blossom Toes,
Brothers Johnson,
Spoonie Gee,
UT,
Khruangbin,
Skriet,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Rosa Yemen,
Throbbing Gristle,
Echospace,
Man Eating Sloth,
D'Angelo,
Kool Moe Dee,
Rakim,
Henry Cow,
Ituana,
Jandek,
The Fuzztones,
the Slits,
Tropical Tobacco,
The United States of America,
Erykah Badu,
Reuben Wilson,
Basic Channel,
The Cramps,
Can,
Jimmy McGriff,
DJ Sneak,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Television,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
B.T. Express,
Kas Product,
The Happenings,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Monks,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Oneida,
In Retrospect,
Little Man,
Schoolly D,
Tomorrow,
Black Flag,
Hasil Adkins,
The Raincoats,
Popol Vuh,
Gerry Rafferty,
Heaven 17,
Minor Threat,
Marc Almond,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet.
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.