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 Turkmenistan and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 harpsichord 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 New York Dolls to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Absolute Body Control. All the underground hits.
All Mandrill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Isaac Hayes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Metal Thangz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Detroit Cobras,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sugar Minott,
Dave Gahan,
Duran Duran,
Massinfluence,
Can,
Drexciya,
the Swans,
Parry Music,
A Certain Ratio,
Royal Trux,
Electric Light Orchestra,
June of 44,
Girls At Our Best!,
Kurtis Blow,
Audionom,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Harpers Bizarre,
the Bar-Kays,
DJ Style,
Slave,
Pharoah Sanders,
Laurel Aitken,
Eric Copeland,
Boredoms,
The Velvet Underground,
Symarip,
T. Rex,
Gang Gang Dance,
Tommy Roe,
Silicon Teens,
Jeff Lynne,
Erasure,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Cheater Slicks,
The Sisters of Mercy,
John Foxx,
Terrestrial Tones,
Wire,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Cymande,
Freddie Wadling,
Slick Rick,
Joyce Sims,
Max Romeo,
Youth Brigade,
Jawbox,
B.T. Express,
The Move,
The Birthday Party,
Susan Cadogan,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Pagans,
Tropical Tobacco,
Infiniti,
Roy Ayers,
Letta Mbulu,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes.
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.