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 Netherlands and from Houston.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Severed Heads to the techno 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 Masters at Work. All the underground hits.
All Clear Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Babytalk 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rekid,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Maleditus Sound,
Roxette,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Kerrie Biddell,
Tom Boy,
Godley & Creme,
EPMD,
8 Eyed Spy,
New Age Steppers,
Ralphi Rosario,
Roxy Music,
Harmonia,
Lyres,
the Slits,
Minutemen,
Siglo XX,
D'Angelo,
Mantronix,
John Foxx,
Marvin Gaye,
Barrington Levy,
Erasure,
Monolake,
MDC,
Absolute Body Control,
The Grass Roots,
Sight & Sound,
The Tremeloes,
H. Thieme,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Yazoo,
a-ha,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Fall,
Man Parrish,
The Fugs,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Pagans,
Monks,
Leonard Cohen,
the Human League,
Black Bananas,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Hardrive,
The Toasters,
The Blackbyrds,
Sexual Harrassment,
June of 44,
Newcleus,
Minor Threat,
Lou Christie,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Nirvana,
Sällskapet,
ABBA,
the Soft Cell,
Robert Wyatt,
Agitation Free,
Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk.
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.