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 Manila.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 sitar 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 The Slits to the rap 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. All the underground hits.
All The Gladiators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dorothy Ashby record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boredoms 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?
Shoche,
Matthew Bourne,
Nas,
Stockholm Monsters,
Rotary Connection,
Sight & Sound,
Jerry's Kids,
Clear Light,
Mark Hollis,
Youth Brigade,
X-101,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Mary Jane Girls,
Soft Machine,
Junior Murvin,
Inner City,
Ken Boothe,
Scott Walker,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Marcia Griffiths,
Black Pus,
The Durutti Column,
The Searchers,
Terry Callier,
The Divine Comedy,
Ronan,
The Toasters,
Neu!,
Mr. Review,
China Crisis,
Liliput,
Animal Collective,
Marshall Jefferson,
Chris Corsano,
Oneida,
Nation of Ulysses,
Godley & Creme,
Boz Scaggs,
Eric B and Rakim,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Eric Copeland,
Tim Buckley,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Fugs,
Average White Band,
Amazonics,
L. Decosne,
Archie Shepp,
Mad Mike,
Brass Construction,
Juan Atkins,
Aloha Tigers,
D'Angelo,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Skatalites,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Outsiders,
Simply Red,
Jeff Mills,
X-102,
The Cramps,
The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter.
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.