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 Malta and from Accra.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Throbbing Gristle 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 Warren Ellis. All the underground hits.
All Spandau Ballet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Teasers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Neil Young record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mission of Burma,
Zapp,
Sister Nancy,
The Litter,
Piero Umiliani,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Evens,
Make Up,
Eurythmics,
Thee Headcoats,
Young Marble Giants,
Moebius,
Main Source,
Arthur Verocai,
Intrusion,
Josef K,
The Beau Brummels,
Index,
Toni Rubio,
Tommy Roe,
Ken Boothe,
Derrick May,
Bobby Sherman,
Rekid,
The Shadows of Knight,
Bill Near,
Blake Baxter,
Wire,
Ice-T,
Accadde A,
Yaz,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Electric Prunes,
Mandrill,
The J.B.'s,
New Age Steppers,
Urselle,
Barrington Levy,
Babytalk,
Crooked Eye,
Robert Hood,
Saccharine Trust,
Erykah Badu,
Fatback Band,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Magma,
Fat Boys,
Cameo,
Masters at Work,
June of 44,
Bad Manners,
Lyres,
the Fania All-Stars,
Brass Construction,
Dennis Brown,
The Dave Clark Five,
Banda Bassotti,
Black Flag,
The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders.
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.