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 Portugal and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 güiro 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 The Associates to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Last Poets. All the underground hits.
All Whodini tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barrington Levy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a One Last Wish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Johnny Osbourne,
Easy Going,
The Last Poets,
Theoretical Girls,
The Gladiators,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Black Flag,
Livin' Joy,
Donald Byrd,
the Slits,
Crooked Eye,
Shuggie Otis,
Todd Terry,
Rotary Connection,
Deadbeat,
Hoover,
Liliput,
Country Teasers,
Crispian St. Peters,
Todd Rundgren,
Ornette Coleman,
Tomorrow,
Electric Prunes,
Amazonics,
Jeff Lynne,
Reuben Wilson,
U.S. Maple,
The Offenders,
The Barracudas,
Bill Near,
Dave Gahan,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Five Americans,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
New Age Steppers,
Sexual Harrassment,
Camberwell Now,
Delta 5,
Metal Thangz,
Pagans,
Masters at Work,
OOIOO,
Jeru the Damaja,
Fear,
Alphaville,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Nirvana,
Trumans Water,
Cybotron,
David Axelrod,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Kerri Chandler,
Silicon Teens,
Dead Boys,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Hot Snakes,
Maurizio,
The Motions,
Unwound,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms.
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.