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 Malaysia and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Scott Walker to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Stereo Dub. All the underground hits.
All Joensuu 1685 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lafayette Afro Rock Band 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Neil Young & Crazy Horse record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harpers Bizarre,
Rhythm & Sound,
Pole,
Sight & Sound,
Ten City,
The Last Poets,
Letta Mbulu,
Jimmy McGriff,
Nik Kershaw,
Boredoms,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Model 500,
Electric Prunes,
Malaria!,
Colin Newman,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Steve Hackett,
Lucky Dragons,
Organ,
Dawn Penn,
The Velvet Underground,
The Sound,
Black Pus,
The Dead C,
Eric Dolphy,
The Music Machine,
John Lydon,
Index,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Infiniti,
Stiv Bators,
Crooked Eye,
Roxy Music,
Whodini,
Ornette Coleman,
Boz Scaggs,
Unwound,
June of 44,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Nico,
The American Breed,
DJ Style,
48th St. Collective,
Kerri Chandler,
Piero Umiliani,
Fad Gadget,
Scrapy,
Stereo Dub,
The Fugs,
Thee Headcoats,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Sugar Minott,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Gastr Del Sol,
Boogie Down Productions,
Moby Grape,
Kurtis Blow,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Wake,
David Bowie,
Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell.
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.