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 Mauritania and from Houston.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Flesh Eaters to the grunge 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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs. All the underground hits.
All Sight & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stereo Dub 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Q65,
A Certain Ratio,
Kas Product,
Gil Scott Heron,
Man Parrish,
The Slackers,
Drexciya,
Eve St. Jones,
The Monks,
The Fall,
The Smoke,
The Golliwogs,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Schoolly D,
Bobby Sherman,
Reuben Wilson,
Rapeman,
Andrew Hill,
Warren Ellis,
Marine Girls,
The J.B.'s,
Barclay James Harvest,
Minor Threat,
Judy Mowatt,
Q and Not U,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Eden Ahbez,
Scion,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Trumans Water,
Man Eating Sloth,
John Holt,
Slave,
ABBA,
Ultra Naté,
One Last Wish,
8 Eyed Spy,
Chrome,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Country Teasers,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Dave Gahan,
The Move,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Neil Young,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ronnie Foster,
The Seeds,
Davy DMX,
Dual Sessions,
The American Breed,
These Immortal Souls,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
AZ,
Electric Prunes,
Buzzcocks,
Ronan,
Morten Harket,
The Fire Engines,
Scientists,
New Age Steppers,
The Searchers,
Aswad,
Flamin' Groovies,
Theoretical Girls, Theoretical Girls, Theoretical Girls, Theoretical Girls.
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.