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 Latvia and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 rhodes 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 Ash Ra Tempel to the punk 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 The Young Rascals. All the underground hits.
All Ultravox 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 techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Birthday Party record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare 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 Fortunes,
Can,
Neu!,
The Dirtbombs,
Monks,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Wings,
The Happenings,
The Misunderstood,
Arab on Radar,
Radiohead,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Tres Demented,
The Birthday Party,
Letta Mbulu,
Joy Division,
Saccharine Trust,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Qualms,
Barrington Levy,
Don Cherry,
Nas,
AZ,
Bush Tetras,
Chrome,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Kool Moe Dee,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Altered Images,
Sonny Sharrock,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Gong,
Gang Green,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Neon Judgement,
Blossom Toes,
Freddie Wadling,
Swans,
Talk Talk,
Von Mondo,
Sällskapet,
Cameo,
Stiv Bators,
Drive Like Jehu,
Sex Pistols,
The Young Rascals,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Soulsonic Force,
10cc,
Adolescents,
Bobby Womack,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Donald Byrd,
Blancmange,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Divine Comedy,
OOIOO,
Flipper,
Tubeway Army,
Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!.
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.