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 Kyrgyzstan and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 arpeggiator 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 Monolake to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Oblivians. All the underground hits.
All Be Bop Deluxe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-Ray Spex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 a güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Evens record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Angels of Light,
The Shadows of Knight,
Organ,
UT,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Roger Hodgson,
Thee Headcoats,
Bobby Womack,
Newcleus,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Eric B and Rakim,
Neu!,
Surgeon,
Johnny Osbourne,
Spandau Ballet,
Frankie Knuckles,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Skatalites,
Gang Gang Dance,
Zero Boys,
Drive Like Jehu,
Section 25,
The Young Rascals,
Can,
Judy Mowatt,
D'Angelo,
Gil Scott Heron,
New Age Steppers,
Masters at Work,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Kurtis Blow,
Talk Talk,
Mo-Dettes,
Wally Richardson,
Dark Day,
Radiopuhelimet,
Kaleidoscope,
48th St. Collective,
The Saints,
Jeff Lynne,
Rotary Connection,
The Zeros,
Sandy B,
Erykah Badu,
Monks,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Simply Red,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Sister Nancy,
Liliput,
Scratch Acid,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sällskapet,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Bush Tetras,
Donny Hathaway,
The Cramps,
Ronan,
Index,
Pantytec,
Inner City,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.