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 Singapore and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Second Layer to the electroclash 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 Barclay James Harvest. All the underground hits.
All Soulsonic Force tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Swans 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Livin' Joy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eurythmics,
Moebius,
Scion,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Eric B and Rakim,
Faraquet,
Lyres,
Roy Ayers,
Chrome,
World's Most,
Erasure,
Ronnie Foster,
KRS-One,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Alphaville,
Barry Ungar,
Pantaleimon,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Nico,
Yazoo,
Unrelated Segments,
Scientists,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Music Machine,
The Selecter,
the Fania All-Stars,
John Cale,
Monks,
Fluxion,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
June Days,
Electric Prunes,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Robert Hood,
Q and Not U,
Junior Murvin,
Bobby Womack,
the Bar-Kays,
Kevin Saunderson,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
the Swans,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Happenings,
Vainqueur,
Radio Birdman,
OOIOO,
Khruangbin,
Motorama,
Theoretical Girls,
Iggy Pop,
Cal Tjader,
Nirvana,
Gichy Dan,
Mad Mike,
Tommy Roe,
Arthur Verocai,
Crash Course in Science,
Rakim,
Fad Gadget,
The Fuzztones,
John Foxx,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.