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 Marshall Islands and from Madrid.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the marimba 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 Ronnie Foster to the grunge 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 Public Enemy. All the underground hits.
All Hoover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra Arkestra 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roxette record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-Ray Spex,
Thee Headcoats,
Flamin' Groovies,
KRS-One,
Amon Düül II,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Suburban Knight,
PIL,
The Pretty Things,
the Human League,
Symarip,
The Durutti Column,
The Grass Roots,
Fear,
Patti Smith,
Thompson Twins,
Fatback Band,
Television Personalities,
Eric Dolphy,
Soft Cell,
Sonic Youth,
Bobby Hutcherson,
These Immortal Souls,
The Cramps,
Neil Young,
Banda Bassotti,
Dead Boys,
Jerry's Kids,
Unwound,
Monolake,
The Stooges,
Nils Olav,
The Smiths,
Joe Finger,
Excepter,
Nirvana,
Charles Mingus,
Dorothy Ashby,
Wings,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Gladiators,
Bill Near,
Gichy Dan,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Gerry Rafferty,
Mission of Burma,
The Skatalites,
Harpers Bizarre,
Theoretical Girls,
DJ Sneak,
Ohio Players,
Magma,
Robert Görl,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Jacques Brel,
Wolf Eyes,
Althea and Donna,
Barclay James Harvest,
Bobby Byrd,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators.
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.