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 Mali and from Shanghai.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 chamberlin 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 The Names to the jazz 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 Television Personalities. All the underground hits.
All The Neon Judgement tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Y Pants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Grass Roots record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABBA,
The Fuzztones,
Suicide,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Monks,
Slave,
Donny Hathaway,
Jesper Dahlback,
UT,
Crispy Ambulance,
Chris Corsano,
The Star Department,
Average White Band,
Roxy Music,
Barclay James Harvest,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Ultravox,
Mad Mike,
Saccharine Trust,
Bootsy Collins,
Rosa Yemen,
Von Mondo,
Rhythm & Sound,
Kaleidoscope,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bill Near,
Aural Exciters,
Laurel Aitken,
Oneida,
Gregory Isaacs,
the Fania All-Stars,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Big Daddy Kane,
Desert Stars,
Rekid,
Skaos,
Jerry's Kids,
Monolake,
The Selecter,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Cure,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Cowsills,
Prince Buster,
Sugar Minott,
The Monks,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Ludus,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Spoonie Gee,
Frankie Knuckles,
X-102,
The Divine Comedy,
Harmonia,
Mantronix,
X-101,
The Beau Brummels,
June Days,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Joe Finger,
Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound.
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.