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 Somalia and from Seoul.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 PIL to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Todd Rundgren. All the underground hits.
All Pierre Henry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Halsall 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masters at Work record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
One Last Wish,
Eurythmics,
Brass Construction,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Ronnie Foster,
Royal Trux,
Mars,
Man Eating Sloth,
Fela Kuti,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Rapeman,
The Residents,
Moss Icon,
Scientists,
Connie Case,
Visage,
Rotary Connection,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Gichy Dan,
Underground Resistance,
The Blues Magoos,
Television Personalities,
DJ Sneak,
Marc Almond,
Soulsonic Force,
Roy Ayers,
The Misunderstood,
The Gladiators,
Boredoms,
Pylon,
Mark Hollis,
Peter and Kerry,
Masters at Work,
The Selecter,
Zapp,
Black Flag,
The Kinks,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Monks,
Sex Pistols,
Cybotron,
Piero Umiliani,
Albert Ayler,
Barrington Levy,
Pierre Henry,
Rekid,
Glambeats Corp.,
Metal Thangz,
Chris & Cosey,
X-102,
Altered Images,
Kevin Saunderson,
Throbbing Gristle,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Cramps,
Livin' Joy,
The Black Dice,
The Index,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Radio Birdman,
Kayak,
Simply Red,
the Human League,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama.
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.