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 Kazakhstan and from Accra.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Nirvana. All the underground hits.
All Pole tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television Personalities 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Parry Music record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
Robert Wyatt,
the Fania All-Stars,
Peter & Gordon,
Massinfluence,
The Index,
Hasil Adkins,
Suicide,
Clear Light,
Mary Jane Girls,
Arab on Radar,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ludus,
Stockholm Monsters,
Urselle,
Lungfish,
Vladislav Delay,
The Gap Band,
Jeff Lynne,
Yazoo,
Faraquet,
Cybotron,
The Dave Clark Five,
PIL,
Cecil Taylor,
The Gories,
The Neon Judgement,
The Associates,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Marshall Jefferson,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Buzzcocks,
Jerry's Kids,
Mo-Dettes,
Gastr Del Sol,
Brothers Johnson,
Hoover,
Black Pus,
Gang Starr,
New Age Steppers,
Roy Ayers,
Agitation Free,
Blake Baxter,
Soul II Soul,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Mojo Men,
Roger Hodgson,
The Buckinghams,
Lou Reed,
The Moody Blues,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Girls At Our Best!,
Throbbing Gristle,
Shuggie Otis,
Reuben Wilson,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Lou Christie,
Dave Gahan,
The Motions,
Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants.
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.