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 New Zealand and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Crispy Ambulance to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Strawberry Alarm Clock. All the underground hits.
All The Saints tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chris & Cosey record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 guitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wolf Eyes,
John Cale,
Alice Coltrane,
Carl Craig,
Little Man,
Isaac Hayes,
Shoche,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Moody Blues,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Black Dice,
Charles Mingus,
Hashim,
Harry Pussy,
Visage,
Eden Ahbez,
Whodini,
New York Dolls,
Absolute Body Control,
Mark Hollis,
Pet Shop Boys,
Kayak,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Wake,
ABBA,
John Holt,
The Electric Prunes,
Loose Ends,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Nik Kershaw,
Skarface,
Roxette,
Sandy B,
The Standells,
Joyce Sims,
Skaos,
Suburban Knight,
Vladislav Delay,
Nick Fraelich,
Monolake,
Tommy Roe,
Blake Baxter,
The Raincoats,
Television,
Model 500,
Inner City,
Neil Young,
The Neon Judgement,
Essential Logic,
Bill Near,
Moss Icon,
Laurel Aitken,
Aloha Tigers,
Half Japanese,
The Toasters,
Rites of Spring,
Chrome,
Cluster,
Franke,
Gastr Del Sol,
L. Decosne,
Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco.
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.