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 Zambia and from Paris.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 Holger Czukay 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Dirtbombs. All the underground hits.
All Susan Cadogan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sex Pistols 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brand Nubian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Parry Music,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Busters,
Make Up,
Robert Görl,
Roger Hodgson,
Angry Samoans,
Letta Mbulu,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Supertramp,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Pole,
Youth Brigade,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Real Kids,
Tubeway Army,
The Doobie Brothers,
Robert Hood,
Grauzone,
Fad Gadget,
Pierre Henry,
The Saints,
Babytalk,
Rites of Spring,
Popol Vuh,
the Slits,
the Soft Cell,
Yazoo,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Barracudas,
The Pretty Things,
Mission of Burma,
John Coltrane,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Icehouse,
Skarface,
Ludus,
Masters at Work,
48th St. Collective,
Kayak,
Goldenarms,
The Blues Magoos,
Black Pus,
Tears for Fears,
The Wake,
Oneida,
Arcadia,
Thee Headcoats,
The Angels of Light,
Skaos,
Bobby Womack,
Suburban Knight,
The Red Krayola,
The Cure,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Ohio Players,
the Germs,
Bluetip,
Traffic Nightmare,
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow.
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.