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 Syria and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 oboe 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 James White and The Blacks to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All Main Source tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Buzzcocks 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Index,
Sparks,
Funkadelic,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Happenings,
Minny Pops,
Piero Umiliani,
The Tremeloes,
In Retrospect,
The Martian,
Drexciya,
Gang Gang Dance,
Dawn Penn,
Letta Mbulu,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Minutemen,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Khruangbin,
Niagra,
The Barracudas,
Pagans,
Godley & Creme,
Graham Central Station,
The Modern Lovers,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
X-102,
Colin Newman,
Nirvana,
Newcleus,
Johnny Osbourne,
These Immortal Souls,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
DNA,
UT,
Electric Light Orchestra,
New York Dolls,
Hashim,
Stiv Bators,
Smog,
Girls At Our Best!,
Public Enemy,
Gong,
Matthew Bourne,
David Axelrod,
Wolf Eyes,
Tomorrow,
The Last Poets,
Neil Young,
X-Ray Spex,
Quando Quango,
Urselle,
the Soft Cell,
Charles Mingus,
Leonard Cohen,
Vladislav Delay,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Pet Shop Boys,
the Fania All-Stars,
Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock.
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.