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 Lesotho and from Spokane.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 snare 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 Sandy B to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Black Moon. All the underground hits.
All David Bowie tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Subhumans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
This Heat,
Crime,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Make Up,
OOIOO,
Jandek,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Rotary Connection,
Nico,
Metal Thangz,
The Fugs,
Stetsasonic,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
ABBA,
Gastr Del Sol,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Cameo,
Jeff Lynne,
Franke,
The Smoke,
Average White Band,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Buzzcocks,
The Durutti Column,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Dave Clark Five,
Popol Vuh,
Dorothy Ashby,
Suburban Knight,
Susan Cadogan,
Maurizio,
Banda Bassotti,
The Dead C,
The Wake,
Ronan,
Isaac Hayes,
Kenny Larkin,
Cluster,
Erasure,
Trumans Water,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Soft Machine,
Black Flag,
Piero Umiliani,
Lalo Schifrin,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Gabor Szabo,
Skriet,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lebanon Hanover,
Boz Scaggs,
Sandy B,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Birthday Party,
Gichy Dan,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Moby Grape,
Half Japanese,
Drive Like Jehu,
Rosa Yemen,
Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone.
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.