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 Vanuatu 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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 spring reverb 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 Crooked Eye to the rock 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 Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam. All the underground hits.
All Gregory Isaacs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every It's A Beautiful Day record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Residents,
The Beau Brummels,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Infiniti,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Reagan Youth,
Juan Atkins,
Franke,
Terrestrial Tones,
Black Flag,
the Fania All-Stars,
Lebanon Hanover,
Don Cherry,
Sun Ra,
Throbbing Gristle,
The J.B.'s,
Pantytec,
Warsaw,
Youth Brigade,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Fortunes,
The Dead C,
the Sonics,
Kas Product,
Arthur Verocai,
Terry Callier,
Lindisfarne,
Lyres,
Swell Maps,
John Foxx,
The Names,
Accadde A,
Chris Corsano,
Archie Shepp,
Max Romeo,
Mark Hollis,
The Black Dice,
Faraquet,
Shoche,
Roxette,
Sarah Menescal,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Guru Guru,
World's Most,
The New Christs,
Avey Tare,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
John Coltrane,
Roxy Music,
Altered Images,
Ken Boothe,
The Moody Blues,
Reuben Wilson,
Ponytail,
Joensuu 1685,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Rod Modell,
Jacques Brel,
Leonard Cohen,
Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station.
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.