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 Burundi 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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Morten Harket 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 Supertramp. All the underground hits.
All Vaughan Mason & Crew tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Half Japanese record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Skatalites,
Unrelated Segments,
Eric B and Rakim,
Eddi Front,
8 Eyed Spy,
Dual Sessions,
the Normal,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Country Teasers,
Oblivians,
Bang On A Can,
Nico,
Matthew Bourne,
Pantaleimon,
Niagra,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Blossom Toes,
Das Ding,
The Mojo Men,
Bad Manners,
Ossler,
Porter Ricks,
Swell Maps,
Joe Finger,
Ice-T,
Bronski Beat,
Lalann,
Maurizio,
Make Up,
The Victims,
Rites of Spring,
Organ,
The Invisible,
The Gun Club,
Black Sheep,
Harry Pussy,
Jacques Brel,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Martian,
Von Mondo,
June Days,
Inner City,
Radio Birdman,
Robert Hood,
Gabor Szabo,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Silicon Teens,
Man Parrish,
Quantec,
The Misunderstood,
Chris & Cosey,
Saccharine Trust,
Smog,
The Divine Comedy,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Lebanon Hanover,
Harpers Bizarre,
Hot Snakes,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Neu!, Neu!, Neu!, Neu!.
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.