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 Kazakhstan and from Johannesburg.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Tropical Tobacco to the dance 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 Suburban Knight. All the underground hits.
All Jacob Miller tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott Heron 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Remains record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rapeman,
Todd Terry,
Basic Channel,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Q and Not U,
Jandek,
Agitation Free,
ABBA,
Howard Jones,
DJ Style,
One Last Wish,
Aaron Thompson,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Searchers,
Loose Ends,
Schoolly D,
Swell Maps,
Gerry Rafferty,
Soul Sonic Force,
James White and The Blacks,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Roxy Music,
F. McDonald,
Mad Mike,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Wire,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Eurythmics,
La Düsseldorf,
Quantec,
The Smiths,
The Gap Band,
Can,
Throbbing Gristle,
Dawn Penn,
Fugazi,
Mary Jane Girls,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Anakelly,
Unwound,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Y Pants,
Soft Machine,
Sex Pistols,
Zapp,
Henry Cow,
The Moody Blues,
Lalo Schifrin,
the Germs,
Smog,
Dark Day,
Moby Grape,
The Wake,
Suburban Knight,
China Crisis,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Victims, The Victims, The Victims, The Victims.
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.