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 Iraq and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 organ 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 Electric Light Orchestra to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Thompson Twins. All the underground hits.
All Parry Music tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every R.M.O. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Qualms,
Delta 5,
Vladislav Delay,
Tropical Tobacco,
Kaleidoscope,
Mad Mike,
Tomorrow,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
New Order,
Liliput,
The Happenings,
The Cowsills,
Harpers Bizarre,
Jerry's Kids,
Rites of Spring,
Althea and Donna,
Quando Quango,
James White and The Blacks,
Oblivians,
The Skatalites,
In Retrospect,
Traffic Nightmare,
Ornette Coleman,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Young Rascals,
Monolake,
Make Up,
AZ,
Tears for Fears,
Spandau Ballet,
Arthur Verocai,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Scott Walker,
the Soft Cell,
Nation of Ulysses,
Johnny Clarke,
Section 25,
Alison Limerick,
Blossom Toes,
Josef K,
Jacob Miller,
Public Enemy,
Sixth Finger,
The Black Dice,
Jandek,
the Normal,
The Vogues,
Quantec,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Eurythmics,
Sound Behaviour,
Boz Scaggs,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Bad Manners,
Nirvana,
Shuggie Otis,
10cc,
Sight & Sound,
Eric Dolphy,
Fugazi,
Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu.
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.