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 Sri Lanka and from Columbus.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Salvador.
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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Johnny Clarke to the rap 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry. All the underground hits.
All UT tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Desert Stars,
Underground Resistance,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Litter,
Panda Bear,
The Sound,
Silicon Teens,
Fear,
Vladislav Delay,
The Alarm Clocks,
Harpers Bizarre,
Cheater Slicks,
The American Breed,
Jeff Mills,
Adolescents,
Kevin Saunderson,
Moebius,
Nas,
Grey Daturas,
Monks,
Soft Cell,
John Coltrane,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Reuben Wilson,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Fluxion,
Tres Demented,
Aural Exciters,
Gang of Four,
The Doors,
Gerry Rafferty,
Johnny Clarke,
The Leaves,
The Real Kids,
The Buckinghams,
The Techniques,
Mandrill,
Josef K,
Crime,
Scratch Acid,
The Blues Magoos,
Matthew Halsall,
The Music Machine,
Liliput,
Simply Red,
Second Layer,
The Remains,
Sight & Sound,
The Beau Brummels,
Sex Pistols,
Crash Course in Science,
Scion,
Blancmange,
FM Einheit,
Crispian St. Peters,
Sparks,
Blossom Toes,
The Shadows of Knight,
D'Angelo,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade.
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.