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 India and from Bologna.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Monks to the crunk 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 Young Marble Giants. All the underground hits.
All X-Ray Spex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Real Kids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Half Japanese record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Five Americans,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Monks,
David Bowie,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Birthday Party,
Ituana,
Pere Ubu,
Judy Mowatt,
Amon Düül,
Bad Manners,
Curtis Mayfield,
the Normal,
Kurtis Blow,
John Coltrane,
Warsaw,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Television,
Deakin,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Associates,
Organ,
E-Dancer,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Mad Mike,
Pharoah Sanders,
Basic Channel,
Soft Machine,
Steve Hackett,
Freddie Wadling,
Andrew Hill,
The Human League,
The Saints,
The Selecter,
Groovy Waters,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Neon Judgement,
The Tremeloes,
Jacques Brel,
Aloha Tigers,
Kayak,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Skatalites,
Tubeway Army,
The Happenings,
Mars,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Los Fastidios,
Bobby Womack,
Black Sheep,
Y Pants,
Magazine,
Dave Gahan,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Alison Limerick,
Susan Cadogan,
These Immortal Souls,
Donald Byrd,
Electric Prunes,
Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs.
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.