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 France and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 arpeggiator 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 Wolf Eyes to the crunk 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 Sister Nancy. All the underground hits.
All Bauhaus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brick 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Janne Schatter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
The Standells,
Franke,
D'Angelo,
Tommy Roe,
Cheater Slicks,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Skatalites,
X-102,
Nico,
ABBA,
Dark Day,
Rapeman,
Aswad,
The Slackers,
Black Moon,
Barry Ungar,
JFA,
Das Ding,
Jacob Miller,
Television Personalities,
Malaria!,
Scan 7,
Clear Light,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
the Fania All-Stars,
Masters at Work,
Patti Smith,
Iggy Pop,
Monolake,
Skaos,
The Gun Club,
Procol Harum,
Kurtis Blow,
Man Parrish,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Stooges,
Crash Course in Science,
Popol Vuh,
Camouflage,
The Seeds,
Lower 48,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Suburban Knight,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Avey Tare,
Kool Moe Dee,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The New Christs,
Eve St. Jones,
Soulsonic Force,
The Birthday Party,
Flash Fearless,
Sixth Finger,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Matthew Bourne,
Dennis Brown,
Wally Richardson,
Suicide,
Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill.
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.