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 Laos and from Spokane.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 spring reverb 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 Fall to the jazz 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 Smog. All the underground hits.
All Los Fastidios tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Big Daddy Kane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Amon Düül II record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skriet,
Fugazi,
Tears for Fears,
David Bowie,
Grauzone,
Robert Wyatt,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Bush Tetras,
The Human League,
Khruangbin,
Masters at Work,
Hot Snakes,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Pop Group,
Chrome,
Roy Ayers,
Inner City,
Susan Cadogan,
Terrestrial Tones,
Easy Going,
Freddie Wadling,
David Axelrod,
Arab on Radar,
The Monochrome Set,
Sexual Harrassment,
Roger Hodgson,
T. Rex,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Grey Daturas,
Connie Case,
Outsiders,
Lou Christie,
Lalo Schifrin,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
H. Thieme,
Iggy Pop,
David McCallum,
Radio Birdman,
Rekid,
Robert Görl,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Throbbing Gristle,
Flash Fearless,
Silicon Teens,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Echospace,
The Standells,
D'Angelo,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Livin' Joy,
Godley & Creme,
The Angels of Light,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Dave Gahan,
The J.B.'s,
Glenn Branca,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Jerry's Kids,
F. McDonald,
Alphaville,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Derrick May,
Half Japanese,
Janne Schatter,
Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks.
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.