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 Syria and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in 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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Winnipeg.
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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Scratch Acid to the grime 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 The Raincoats. All the underground hits.
All The Durutti Column tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Clarke record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Soft Cell,
Second Layer,
Blancmange,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Shuggie Otis,
Blossom Toes,
Crash Course in Science,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
The Music Machine,
Q65,
Jesper Dahlback,
Jerry's Kids,
the Fania All-Stars,
Rekid,
Agitation Free,
The Neon Judgement,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Kenny Larkin,
AZ,
The Gladiators,
Minnie Riperton,
Dave Gahan,
The Velvet Underground,
kango's stein massive,
Gerry Rafferty,
Ronnie Foster,
Davy DMX,
Severed Heads,
Section 25,
The New Christs,
Henry Cow,
Depeche Mode,
Prince Buster,
Amon Düül,
Das Ding,
Anakelly,
Procol Harum,
Pagans,
Eurythmics,
Grandmaster Flash,
Bill Near,
Wolf Eyes,
John Cale,
Althea and Donna,
Pharoah Sanders,
Fatback Band,
Faust,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Slackers,
Traffic Nightmare,
Freddie Wadling,
Tres Demented,
Ice-T,
Basic Channel,
Nik Kershaw,
Rosa Yemen,
JFA,
Ornette Coleman,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson.
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.