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 Latvia and from Tokyo.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 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 Kerrie Biddell to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish. All the underground hits.
All Ornette Coleman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Q and Not U record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
David Bowie,
Brick,
Mars,
Barry Ungar,
Negative Approach,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The United States of America,
Japan,
Dark Day,
Electric Prunes,
Can,
Aaron Thompson,
Simply Red,
Bronski Beat,
World's Most,
Absolute Body Control,
Grandmaster Flash,
Kayak,
Deepchord,
Morten Harket,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Alphaville,
Procol Harum,
Surgeon,
Idris Muhammad,
Essential Logic,
Marcia Griffiths,
Steve Hackett,
Panda Bear,
The Cure,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Royal Trux,
Delon & Dalcan,
Hasil Adkins,
U.S. Maple,
Yaz,
Hashim,
Joyce Sims,
Shoche,
Y Pants,
Albert Ayler,
Danielle Patucci,
Chris Corsano,
Jeff Lynne,
The Pretty Things,
Warsaw,
D'Angelo,
Cal Tjader,
Tomorrow,
Arcadia,
The Blues Magoos,
The Move,
The Blackbyrds,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Wake,
Quando Quango,
Black Moon, Black Moon, Black Moon, Black Moon.
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.