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 Namibia and from Stockholm.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Buzzcocks to the funk 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 Lower 48. All the underground hits.
All Fugazi tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masters at Work 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joey Negro record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roxette,
Frankie Knuckles,
Fifty Foot Hose,
DJ Sneak,
The Saints,
R.M.O.,
Kayak,
Los Fastidios,
the Association,
Mission of Burma,
Donny Hathaway,
The Dead C,
Amon Düül II,
cv313,
Delon & Dalcan,
Pagans,
Ossler,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Jacques Brel,
Porter Ricks,
The Stooges,
Unwound,
The Martian,
The Remains,
New Order,
Q65,
Marcia Griffiths,
Marvin Gaye,
Fugazi,
Pulsallama,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Minnie Riperton,
Drive Like Jehu,
Godley & Creme,
Suicide,
Deakin,
Second Layer,
Derrick May,
Bobby Womack,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Flipper,
Donald Byrd,
David McCallum,
Oblivians,
Ludus,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Aloha Tigers,
Lucky Dragons,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
K-Klass,
Wasted Youth,
Hardrive,
Blossom Toes,
The Beau Brummels,
Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band.
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.