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 Moldova and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Lyon.
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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 The Cramps to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Hashim. All the underground hits.
All PIL tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ken Boothe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Archie Shepp,
X-Ray Spex,
Slick Rick,
James White and The Blacks,
Funky Four + One,
Robert Hood,
The Saints,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Pole,
Pierre Henry,
Brothers Johnson,
Stiv Bators,
Ice-T,
Eve St. Jones,
ABBA,
Drive Like Jehu,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Deadbeat,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Trumans Water,
Jesper Dahlback,
Black Moon,
Fear,
Faust,
H. Thieme,
Alice Coltrane,
Chris & Cosey,
Audionom,
Moss Icon,
Shoche,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Reuben Wilson,
Gang of Four,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Harpers Bizarre,
X-101,
The Cramps,
The Names,
David Axelrod,
Japan,
Dual Sessions,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Rekid,
Sonny Sharrock,
Soul II Soul,
Vladislav Delay,
Mission of Burma,
Ronnie Foster,
Alphaville,
June of 44,
Blancmange,
Thee Headcoats,
Quadrant,
Patti Smith,
Wolf Eyes,
Accadde A,
Nation of Ulysses,
Basic Channel,
Los Fastidios,
Kurtis Blow,
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.