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 Croatia 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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Vladislav Delay to the funk 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 Tears for Fears. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlbäck tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boz Scaggs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cowsills record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fort Wilson Riot,
Young Marble Giants,
Nirvana,
Reagan Youth,
The Last Poets,
The Neon Judgement,
Depeche Mode,
Nick Fraelich,
The Knickerbockers,
Parry Music,
Circle Jerks,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Patti Smith,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Monochrome Set,
Roxy Music,
Janne Schatter,
Drexciya,
Youth Brigade,
Quando Quango,
Stetsasonic,
Bobby Sherman,
Glambeats Corp.,
Fugazi,
Excepter,
Loose Ends,
The Monks,
Lucky Dragons,
Arthur Verocai,
Dual Sessions,
Soft Machine,
Graham Central Station,
Country Teasers,
Y Pants,
The Toasters,
The Blues Magoos,
Sixth Finger,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Heaven 17,
The Electric Prunes,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Alarm Clocks,
Average White Band,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
U.S. Maple,
Shuggie Otis,
Lalo Schifrin,
Make Up,
Skarface,
Lakeside,
Charles Mingus,
the Germs,
Juan Atkins,
Monolake,
Wire,
Pulsallama,
Kaleidoscope,
Eddi Front,
Curtis Mayfield,
Steve Hackett,
Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep.
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.