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 Vietnam and from Hong Kong.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Mexico City.
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 808 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 Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Metal Thangz. All the underground hits.
All Mandrill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Leonard Cohen 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Porter Ricks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Audionom,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Thee Headcoats,
Roxy Music,
Jacques Brel,
Pierre Henry,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Japan,
John Holt,
Underground Resistance,
Q65,
Reuben Wilson,
David Axelrod,
Eli Mardock,
Danielle Patucci,
The Fugs,
Girls At Our Best!,
Anakelly,
Magazine,
Mantronix,
The Golliwogs,
EPMD,
Duran Duran,
Terry Callier,
Mission of Burma,
Agent Orange,
Graham Central Station,
Nick Fraelich,
Kevin Saunderson,
Minor Threat,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Ponytail,
Mr. Review,
The Divine Comedy,
Drexciya,
DNA,
The Music Machine,
Negative Approach,
Crooked Eye,
The Dead C,
This Heat,
Ultimate Spinach,
La Düsseldorf,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Gichy Dan,
Whodini,
The Invisible,
David McCallum,
Max Romeo,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
the Fania All-Stars,
Dead Boys,
Toni Rubio,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Black Pus,
Man Eating Sloth,
One Last Wish,
UT,
Robert Hood,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers.
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.