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 Paraguay and from Lyon.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Terrestrial Tones to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Beasts of Bourbon. All the underground hits.
All The Alarm Clocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cowsills record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fad Gadget record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
UT,
Icehouse,
The Dead C,
Patti Smith,
Tubeway Army,
Crooked Eye,
Pierre Henry,
Faust,
Shoche,
The Divine Comedy,
Lou Christie,
The Grass Roots,
Nico,
Nirvana,
Pagans,
Barrington Levy,
The Victims,
The Birthday Party,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Ohio Players,
Zero Boys,
Qualms,
KRS-One,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Porter Ricks,
Glambeats Corp.,
Aural Exciters,
Funky Four + One,
Funkadelic,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Man Eating Sloth,
Black Flag,
Black Sheep,
The Seeds,
The Smoke,
Peter and Kerry,
X-102,
Pantaleimon,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Symarip,
Bobby Hutcherson,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Underground Resistance,
Lalo Schifrin,
Bob Dylan,
Davy DMX,
Brass Construction,
Scrapy,
Brand Nubian,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
ABBA,
Essential Logic,
Royal Trux,
Goldenarms,
Echospace,
MDC,
Quadrant,
David McCallum,
Hot Snakes,
Ice-T,
Matthew Halsall,
The New Christs,
New Order, New Order, New Order, New Order.
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.