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 Dominica and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 theremin 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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell to the crunk 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 Deepchord. All the underground hits.
All Amon Düül tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mighty Diamonds 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Depeche Mode record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Anakelly,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Litter,
John Foxx,
Altered Images,
Godley & Creme,
Rhythm & Sound,
Bobby Womack,
Jesper Dahlback,
Scott Walker,
Jacques Brel,
Ohio Players,
Chrome,
Monolake,
New Age Steppers,
The Dead C,
Wolf Eyes,
Agent Orange,
PIL,
These Immortal Souls,
Unwound,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Ultravox,
Fatback Band,
Nico,
Procol Harum,
The Human League,
48th St. Collective,
Bizarre Inc.,
Glambeats Corp.,
Rotary Connection,
Whodini,
Kayak,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Flash Fearless,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Cure,
Joensuu 1685,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ponytail,
The Young Rascals,
Electric Prunes,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Henry Cow,
Index,
Letta Mbulu,
Niagra,
Robert Wyatt,
The Durutti Column,
Peter & Gordon,
Magazine,
Fat Boys,
The Selecter,
Stiv Bators,
Inner City,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Grey Daturas,
The Grass Roots,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Pagans,
The Kinks,
Royal Trux,
Harry Pussy,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.