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 Ecuador and from Delhi.
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 Sao Paulo and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the linndrum 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 The Monochrome Set to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Jerry's Kids. All the underground hits.
All Magma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Laurel Aitken record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
Matthew Bourne,
Hasil Adkins,
Graham Central Station,
Young Marble Giants,
Hot Snakes,
Radiopuhelimet,
Hoover,
Roxette,
Smog,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Jacob Miller,
Derrick May,
Model 500,
The Index,
Deakin,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Wally Richardson,
The Gun Club,
Brick,
The Red Krayola,
Jandek,
Unwound,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Zeros,
Albert Ayler,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
48th St. Collective,
Dawn Penn,
Soft Cell,
The Smoke,
The Modern Lovers,
June of 44,
Donald Byrd,
Mr. Review,
Wasted Youth,
China Crisis,
Con Funk Shun,
The Techniques,
Y Pants,
Visage,
Oneida,
the Normal,
X-102,
Ronnie Foster,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Lindisfarne,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Barbara Tucker,
Theoretical Girls,
Joe Smooth,
Inner City,
Johnny Clarke,
Terrestrial Tones,
Cal Tjader,
Heaven 17,
Monks,
Sex Pistols,
Big Daddy Kane,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Beau Brummels,
Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army.
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.