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 Saudi Arabia and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Audionom to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Manfred Mann's Earth Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Steve Hackett 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a K-Klass record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
Stereo Dub,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Dead C,
Faust,
Lungfish,
Radio Birdman,
Pulsallama,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Wake,
the Sonics,
Rotary Connection,
Flash Fearless,
The Trojans,
Byron Stingily,
Archie Shepp,
Jimmy McGriff,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Stooges,
Donny Hathaway,
Arcadia,
Das Ding,
Terrestrial Tones,
Joy Division,
Ohio Players,
Terry Callier,
This Heat,
Camouflage,
Pantytec,
Duran Duran,
Deepchord,
Metal Thangz,
Agent Orange,
The Cramps,
Warren Ellis,
The Residents,
Interpol,
ABBA,
The Moody Blues,
Royal Trux,
Kenny Larkin,
John Coltrane,
Chrome,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Cowsills,
Ice-T,
Cameo,
The Litter,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Durutti Column,
Kayak,
Connie Case,
Nation of Ulysses,
Mad Mike,
David McCallum,
Erasure,
China Crisis,
Barry Ungar,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.