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 Swaziland and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Delhi.
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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the clarinet 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 The Remains to the punk 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All The Residents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amon Düül II 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alphaville record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nirvana,
Todd Terry,
Sandy B,
The Techniques,
Loose Ends,
Lalo Schifrin,
Barry Ungar,
Tres Demented,
Agent Orange,
Lyres,
Marvin Gaye,
Aaron Thompson,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
the Swans,
Sex Pistols,
Derrick Morgan,
Pharoah Sanders,
Panda Bear,
Fugazi,
Cameo,
Roger Hodgson,
Niagra,
The Gun Club,
Ronan,
Slick Rick,
Kaleidoscope,
In Retrospect,
The Martian,
Don Cherry,
Buzzcocks,
Wolf Eyes,
China Crisis,
John Lydon,
Khruangbin,
Roxette,
Hot Snakes,
ABBA,
Sound Behaviour,
Lalann,
Cymande,
cv313,
The Knickerbockers,
Eli Mardock,
Malaria!,
Kenny Larkin,
Oblivians,
The Mojo Men,
Echospace,
Depeche Mode,
The Birthday Party,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Rakim,
MDC,
Bob Dylan,
John Foxx,
10cc,
The Angels of Light,
Scientists,
Rod Modell,
Public Image Ltd.,
Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade.
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.