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 Mozambique and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Swans to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Colin Newman. All the underground hits.
All Howard Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neil Young & Crazy Horse record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brothers Johnson,
Nico,
Blossom Toes,
The Skatalites,
Black Sheep,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Tommy Roe,
Johnny Clarke,
The Fugs,
Lakeside,
Marcia Griffiths,
Porter Ricks,
The Tremeloes,
Smog,
Lalo Schifrin,
Talk Talk,
Harpers Bizarre,
Quando Quango,
Aaron Thompson,
Nils Olav,
Agitation Free,
PIL,
Depeche Mode,
Eric Copeland,
Trumans Water,
Pharoah Sanders,
Neil Young,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Eden Ahbez,
Radio Birdman,
Saccharine Trust,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Cameo,
Mr. Review,
Althea and Donna,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Franke,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Symarip,
Arthur Verocai,
Con Funk Shun,
Gichy Dan,
Stetsasonic,
Young Marble Giants,
Ronnie Foster,
Donald Byrd,
Black Flag,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Curtis Mayfield,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Gang Starr,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Cramps,
the Human League,
Lower 48,
Eurythmics,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.