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 Hungary 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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 One Last Wish to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Young Marble Giants. All the underground hits.
All Aural Exciters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Clear Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gladiators,
The New Christs,
These Immortal Souls,
Depeche Mode,
Soulsonic Force,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Nils Olav,
Marc Almond,
Scott Walker,
Fluxion,
Surgeon,
Inner City,
Mantronix,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Nik Kershaw,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Litter,
Pere Ubu,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Zeros,
Schoolly D,
Barry Ungar,
Young Marble Giants,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Sixth Finger,
Sarah Menescal,
Mad Mike,
Barrington Levy,
Outsiders,
The Birthday Party,
AZ,
Radiohead,
Pylon,
Drive Like Jehu,
the Sonics,
Nick Fraelich,
Underground Resistance,
U.S. Maple,
Pet Shop Boys,
Public Enemy,
Idris Muhammad,
T. Rex,
Nation of Ulysses,
Agent Orange,
Average White Band,
Cymande,
The Seeds,
Reagan Youth,
Y Pants,
June of 44,
The Slits,
Kaleidoscope,
Lalann,
Smog,
Skriet,
Black Flag,
Alton Ellis,
Flash Fearless,
Brass Construction,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.