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 Swaziland and from Tehran.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Erykah Badu to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Flash Fearless. All the underground hits.
All Teenage Jesus and the Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every AZ record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
Popol Vuh,
Minor Threat,
Sun Ra,
K-Klass,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Beau Brummels,
CMW,
ABBA,
Wolf Eyes,
F. McDonald,
The Gladiators,
Lakeside,
Half Japanese,
Mary Jane Girls,
Danielle Patucci,
Q and Not U,
Ice-T,
Scott Walker,
MDC,
Pagans,
Leonard Cohen,
Dark Day,
Severed Heads,
Iggy Pop,
Ultravox,
The Detroit Cobras,
June of 44,
Pylon,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Tom Boy,
Cybotron,
The Wake,
Avey Tare,
Depeche Mode,
Radio Birdman,
Gang Gang Dance,
Idris Muhammad,
Andrew Hill,
Jeff Mills,
Gang of Four,
Pole,
Barbara Tucker,
X-101,
Lower 48,
Surgeon,
Neu!,
Cymande,
Con Funk Shun,
June Days,
Slick Rick,
Arthur Verocai,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Marc Almond,
Eli Mardock,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Buckinghams,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Skatalites,
Spoonie Gee,
Zapp,
Warren Ellis,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
48th St. Collective, 48th St. Collective, 48th St. Collective, 48th St. Collective.
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.