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 Andorra and from Cairo.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the mellotron 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 H. Thieme to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 L. Decosne. All the underground hits.
All Fluxion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythm & Sound 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Techniques record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Womack,
Roxy Music,
Black Pus,
Spandau Ballet,
Talk Talk,
Erasure,
Ultimate Spinach,
Rites of Spring,
The Litter,
B.T. Express,
Neu!,
Simply Red,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Derrick May,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Gregory Isaacs,
Camouflage,
New Age Steppers,
Popol Vuh,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Suicide,
Smog,
Glenn Branca,
The Techniques,
Byron Stingily,
the Soft Cell,
Sex Pistols,
Beasts of Bourbon,
UT,
Cecil Taylor,
Excepter,
Camberwell Now,
The Star Department,
Harmonia,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Cheater Slicks,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
cv313,
Silicon Teens,
Brand Nubian,
Guru Guru,
Suburban Knight,
Joyce Sims,
Eden Ahbez,
Bobby Byrd,
Sonic Youth,
June Days,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Radiohead,
The Golliwogs,
Rekid,
Vainqueur,
Interpol,
Barry Ungar,
ABC,
David McCallum,
Whodini,
Television Personalities,
Cameo,
Pere Ubu,
The Wake,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry.
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.