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 Paraguay and from Spokane.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Busters to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Blancmange. All the underground hits.
All June of 44 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Procol Harum 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a a-ha record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
Talk Talk,
Rosa Yemen,
Scan 7,
The Sonics,
Dark Day,
Mr. Review,
Fluxion,
China Crisis,
Mission of Burma,
The Toasters,
Slick Rick,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Nik Kershaw,
Boogie Down Productions,
Monks,
Youth Brigade,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Standells,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Yaz,
Avey Tare,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The American Breed,
Gang of Four,
Average White Band,
Ossler,
Tim Buckley,
Matthew Bourne,
Con Funk Shun,
Soulsonic Force,
Gregory Isaacs,
Royal Trux,
Howard Jones,
The Monochrome Set,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Nils Olav,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Tres Demented,
Lee Hazlewood,
Yellowson,
The Angels of Light,
Iggy Pop,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Drexciya,
X-102,
Funky Four + One,
Pussy Galore,
Outsiders,
Max Romeo,
Danielle Patucci,
Crispian St. Peters,
Television,
Susan Cadogan,
The Index,
June Days,
Guru Guru,
The Gories,
Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana.
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.