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 Tanzania and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 808 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 Spandau Ballet 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 Interpol. All the underground hits.
All Marine Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Michelle Simonal 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Holt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Human League,
Country Teasers,
One Last Wish,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Modern Lovers,
Marmalade,
Pole,
Babytalk,
Echospace,
Heaven 17,
Wire,
The Victims,
June Days,
Japan,
Rufus Thomas,
Nation of Ulysses,
Pantaleimon,
Alton Ellis,
The Red Krayola,
DJ Sneak,
The Saints,
Todd Terry,
Girls At Our Best!,
Roy Ayers,
Stiv Bators,
JFA,
Skriet,
Cal Tjader,
David Axelrod,
CMW,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Colin Newman,
The Motions,
Magazine,
Reuben Wilson,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bronski Beat,
The Count Five,
Radio Birdman,
Spoonie Gee,
Dorothy Ashby,
Flash Fearless,
The Durutti Column,
Main Source,
The Residents,
Pussy Galore,
The Electric Prunes,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Cure,
Dark Day,
The Fall,
The Fugs,
Boredoms,
Visage,
Lou Reed,
Matthew Halsall,
Ken Boothe,
The Pretty Things,
the Bar-Kays,
The Associates,
The Kinks,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Circle Jerks,
Faust, Faust, Faust, Faust.
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.