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 Pakistan and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Basic Channel to the grunge 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 Minny Pops. All the underground hits.
All Red Lorry Yellow Lorry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New York Dolls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minnie Riperton,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Urselle,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Kool Moe Dee,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Busters,
The Offenders,
Trumans Water,
Todd Rundgren,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Gang Starr,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Reuben Wilson,
Von Mondo,
Yellowson,
The Gories,
Depeche Mode,
Supertramp,
Camouflage,
Essential Logic,
Sonny Sharrock,
Thompson Twins,
Sixth Finger,
the Swans,
The Trojans,
The Remains,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Lightning Bolt,
Kerrie Biddell,
Jerry's Kids,
Massinfluence,
Joe Finger,
Fugazi,
Brass Construction,
Kas Product,
Jacob Miller,
Cecil Taylor,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
the Bar-Kays,
Echospace,
Niagra,
David Axelrod,
Harry Pussy,
Goldenarms,
Gichy Dan,
Severed Heads,
Ice-T,
the Normal,
The Moleskins,
Absolute Body Control,
The Angels of Light,
the Soft Cell,
Joey Negro,
Ken Boothe,
The Vogues,
Sex Pistols,
Pulsallama,
Matthew Halsall,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.