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 Angola and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
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 Shuggie Otis to the dance 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 Frankie Knuckles. All the underground hits.
All Alice Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amazonics 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Inner City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Minnie Riperton,
Porter Ricks,
Funky Four + One,
Dorothy Ashby,
Danielle Patucci,
The Busters,
The Buckinghams,
Tim Buckley,
Saccharine Trust,
The Slackers,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Johnny Clarke,
Suicide,
Aloha Tigers,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Visage,
Can,
Monks,
Sex Pistols,
Metal Thangz,
Fugazi,
Soul II Soul,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Star Department,
Swans,
Minny Pops,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Skatalites,
Susan Cadogan,
The Searchers,
Blake Baxter,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Evens,
Delta 5,
Kurtis Blow,
Bobby Womack,
John Holt,
Laurel Aitken,
Goldenarms,
Soft Machine,
Skarface,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Velvet Underground,
Barclay James Harvest,
Parry Music,
Aural Exciters,
Theoretical Girls,
Rapeman,
Mission of Burma,
Second Layer,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
ABBA,
Yazoo,
Max Romeo,
Joyce Sims,
Brand Nubian,
Henry Cow,
The Fugs,
Severed Heads,
The Durutti Column,
Quando Quango, Quando Quango, Quando Quango, Quando Quango.
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.