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 Guinea-Bissau and from Shanghai.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Echo & the Bunnymen to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Radiohead. All the underground hits.
All Nico tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marine Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bootsy Collins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yaz,
Lalann,
Kurtis Blow,
The Kinks,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Glambeats Corp.,
Frankie Knuckles,
Intrusion,
The Busters,
Matthew Bourne,
Outsiders,
Basic Channel,
Ice-T,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Bob Dylan,
Kaleidoscope,
Suburban Knight,
Parry Music,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Judy Mowatt,
Boredoms,
Gong,
Rapeman,
Big Daddy Kane,
Dead Boys,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Don Cherry,
Eurythmics,
Neil Young,
Absolute Body Control,
The Moody Blues,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Davy DMX,
Skriet,
Rosa Yemen,
Severed Heads,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Duran Duran,
DJ Style,
LL Cool J,
Brass Construction,
Sam Rivers,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Radiopuhelimet,
Todd Rundgren,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Khruangbin,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Whodini,
The Sonics,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Durutti Column,
Joy Division,
Todd Terry,
ABBA,
Theoretical Girls,
Curtis Mayfield,
Toni Rubio,
The Detroit Cobras,
F. McDonald,
cv313,
Massinfluence,
The Blues Magoos,
Animal Collective, Animal Collective, Animal Collective, Animal Collective.
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.