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 France and from Bremen.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 the Human League to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Section 25. All the underground hits.
All The Standells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Make Up record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Basic Channel,
Joy Division,
Dorothy Ashby,
Joe Finger,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Sandy B,
Traffic Nightmare,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Slits,
MDC,
Echospace,
The Blues Magoos,
Eric B and Rakim,
Gil Scott Heron,
Camouflage,
Rekid,
EPMD,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Spandau Ballet,
Blancmange,
The Star Department,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bill Near,
Stockholm Monsters,
Cheater Slicks,
Pierre Henry,
Marine Girls,
Nation of Ulysses,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Althea and Donna,
Yusef Lateef,
Section 25,
John Coltrane,
Interpol,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Schoolly D,
Marmalade,
Jeff Lynne,
Deepchord,
Young Marble Giants,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Don Cherry,
Adolescents,
DJ Sneak,
X-Ray Spex,
Rites of Spring,
Moby Grape,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Motorama,
Kerri Chandler,
Wire,
Funkadelic,
Con Funk Shun,
The Last Poets,
Grey Daturas,
Tommy Roe,
David McCallum,
Deakin,
The Martian, The Martian, The Martian, The Martian.
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.