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 Slovakia and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Holger Czukay 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 Gichy Dan to the electroclash 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282. All the underground hits.
All Franke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eddi Front 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Hashim,
Iggy Pop,
Ten City,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Avey Tare,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Blackbyrds,
Index,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Clear Light,
Minny Pops,
Ronan,
Camouflage,
Marcia Griffiths,
Drive Like Jehu,
Vainqueur,
Thompson Twins,
Mantronix,
Eric B and Rakim,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Alphaville,
The Smoke,
Eric Copeland,
Joey Negro,
Brothers Johnson,
Severed Heads,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Bauhaus,
Fugazi,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Sisters of Mercy,
AZ,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Mary Jane Girls,
Bill Wells,
The Gladiators,
Little Man,
Tears for Fears,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The United States of America,
Dawn Penn,
Johnny Osbourne,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Remains,
Quantec,
Cheater Slicks,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Tim Buckley,
The Index,
Barbara Tucker,
Radio Birdman,
Jacob Miller,
Public Enemy,
Simply Red,
These Immortal Souls,
Ornette Coleman,
Tubeway Army,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks.
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.