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 Nauru and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 guitar 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 Fluxion to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Bourne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minutemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stetsasonic,
Judy Mowatt,
Bobby Womack,
Guru Guru,
Sonic Youth,
Maleditus Sound,
The Cure,
Unwound,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Malaria!,
The Dave Clark Five,
L. Decosne,
Terry Callier,
Slick Rick,
Alton Ellis,
Black Pus,
Saccharine Trust,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Letta Mbulu,
One Last Wish,
The Divine Comedy,
John Holt,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Bronski Beat,
Easy Going,
Ohio Players,
Franke,
Flipper,
Joyce Sims,
Dave Gahan,
The Real Kids,
Minutemen,
Jerry's Kids,
Sun Ra,
Sarah Menescal,
Nas,
Charles Mingus,
Gang Green,
F. McDonald,
Soft Cell,
Rufus Thomas,
The New Christs,
MC5,
Crispian St. Peters,
Panda Bear,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Smiths,
Robert Hood,
Fela Kuti,
Patti Smith,
Half Japanese,
The Fall,
Babytalk,
Neil Young,
The Seeds,
Traffic Nightmare,
Max Romeo,
The Black Dice,
Funky Four + One,
Eurythmics,
Arcadia,
The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders.
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.