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 Portugal and from Manchester.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the 808 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 Kings Of Tomorrow to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Steve Hackett. All the underground hits.
All Steve Hackett tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Move record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pop Group record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hashim,
The Fuzztones,
John Lydon,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Fugazi,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Average White Band,
The Dirtbombs,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Ten City,
Judy Mowatt,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Kevin Saunderson,
Graham Central Station,
Zero Boys,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Matthew Bourne,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lou Reed,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Rufus Thomas,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Lou Christie,
Thee Headcoats,
the Fania All-Stars,
Johnny Osbourne,
Swans,
Organ,
Stiv Bators,
Tropical Tobacco,
Easy Going,
Robert Hood,
Bush Tetras,
Rod Modell,
The Move,
Shoche,
Mantronix,
June of 44,
Youth Brigade,
A Certain Ratio,
Scratch Acid,
Anakelly,
Traffic Nightmare,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
PIL,
Sixth Finger,
Cybotron,
Barrington Levy,
John Coltrane,
Pagans,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Howard Jones,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Theoretical Girls,
Eve St. Jones,
Hasil Adkins,
Monks,
The Motions,
Mark Hollis,
Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.
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.