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 Iraq and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 Glasgow and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 Robert Palmer 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 Beasts of Bourbon to the techno 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 The Real Kids. All the underground hits.
All Spoonie Gee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gabor Szabo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Dolphy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T.S.O.L.,
Deepchord,
Negative Approach,
Symarip,
Ossler,
Hoover,
The Music Machine,
Eve St. Jones,
AZ,
Joyce Sims,
Chrome,
The Sonics,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
the Soft Cell,
Echospace,
Spandau Ballet,
Gang Starr,
The Vogues,
Arthur Verocai,
Marmalade,
Black Pus,
The Toasters,
Hot Snakes,
Eddi Front,
The Doobie Brothers,
Spoonie Gee,
Gang Green,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Slackers,
Brass Construction,
Television,
Sister Nancy,
Judy Mowatt,
Crispian St. Peters,
Alphaville,
Theoretical Girls,
Delon & Dalcan,
Fat Boys,
Wolf Eyes,
Nik Kershaw,
Scratch Acid,
John Lydon,
Johnny Osbourne,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Harry Pussy,
Banda Bassotti,
Roger Hodgson,
Derrick May,
The Electric Prunes,
The Velvet Underground,
Soft Machine,
the Human League,
The Flesh Eaters,
Aaron Thompson,
10cc,
Warsaw,
Duran Duran,
Procol Harum,
Deadbeat,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke.
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.