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 Mexico and from Glasgow.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Durutti Column to the electroclash 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 Talk Talk. All the underground hits.
All Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every China Crisis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tears for Fears record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Divine Comedy,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Inner City,
John Coltrane,
Pierre Henry,
Nation of Ulysses,
KRS-One,
Fad Gadget,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
the Germs,
Moss Icon,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The New Christs,
Masters at Work,
Warsaw,
Amazonics,
L. Decosne,
Mandrill,
Marvin Gaye,
Mr. Review,
Gang Green,
The J.B.'s,
cv313,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Golliwogs,
Mars,
Kurtis Blow,
Barbara Tucker,
Can,
Kaleidoscope,
Camberwell Now,
Tomorrow,
Adolescents,
The Music Machine,
The Slackers,
Wings,
A Certain Ratio,
Lucky Dragons,
Ralphi Rosario,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
F. McDonald,
Chrome,
Brand Nubian,
Kayak,
The Martian,
Colin Newman,
Aural Exciters,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Make Up,
Eve St. Jones,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Mojo Men,
Magma,
Con Funk Shun,
Scott Walker,
Black Sheep,
Gastr Del Sol,
Traffic Nightmare,
Scrapy,
Soulsonic Force,
New Age Steppers,
Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay.
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.