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 Austria and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Liaisons Dangereuses to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All The Music Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aswad 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Drive Like Jehu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Massinfluence,
Popol Vuh,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Bill Near,
Erykah Badu,
Malaria!,
Von Mondo,
Alton Ellis,
Gang Gang Dance,
Nik Kershaw,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Motions,
The Names,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Harmonia,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Ice-T,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Pharoah Sanders,
Junior Murvin,
Gang of Four,
John Holt,
The Zeros,
R.M.O.,
Fad Gadget,
Yaz,
Yazoo,
Throbbing Gristle,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Circle Jerks,
The Raincoats,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Fugazi,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sexual Harrassment,
Fela Kuti,
Johnny Clarke,
The Seeds,
Jacques Brel,
Boredoms,
Isaac Hayes,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Johnny Osbourne,
Roxette,
Wolf Eyes,
The Black Dice,
The Dave Clark Five,
Black Moon,
Roxy Music,
Leonard Cohen,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Electric Prunes,
Moss Icon,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Scratch Acid,
Soulsonic Force,
Rekid,
Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro.
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.