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 Norway and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 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 Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Fear. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every E-Dancer record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stockholm Monsters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
Gang Starr,
Saccharine Trust,
Television,
Robert Wyatt,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Glenn Branca,
Bronski Beat,
Matthew Bourne,
Soulsonic Force,
Traffic Nightmare,
China Crisis,
The Divine Comedy,
Make Up,
Wolf Eyes,
Sällskapet,
Hot Snakes,
Bobby Byrd,
Charles Mingus,
Mad Mike,
Lalo Schifrin,
Yazoo,
Joe Finger,
Technova,
Unrelated Segments,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Inner City,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Mojo Men,
Minnie Riperton,
The Saints,
The Associates,
cv313,
Interpol,
The Tremeloes,
A Certain Ratio,
John Cale,
The Flesh Eaters,
Eric Copeland,
Tubeway Army,
Rod Modell,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Cybotron,
Tommy Roe,
Mark Hollis,
David Bowie,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Groovy Waters,
Eric Dolphy,
Procol Harum,
Animal Collective,
Vainqueur,
Erasure,
Andrew Hill,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Detroit Cobras,
Agent Orange,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Half Japanese,
The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola.
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.