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 the UAE and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 guitar 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 John Lydon to the electroclash 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All Scientists tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pantytec record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jesper Dahlback,
Aloha Tigers,
Brand Nubian,
The Zeros,
Gong,
The Cowsills,
Blancmange,
Eli Mardock,
Lyres,
John Lydon,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Unrelated Segments,
The Motions,
Bobby Byrd,
Soul Sonic Force,
Aaron Thompson,
Ossler,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Scott Walker,
Buzzcocks,
Rekid,
Eric B and Rakim,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Chrome,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
June Days,
The Shadows of Knight,
Max Romeo,
DNA,
The United States of America,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Blues Magoos,
Angry Samoans,
Sound Behaviour,
Deadbeat,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The American Breed,
These Immortal Souls,
Mo-Dettes,
Dark Day,
The Pretty Things,
Mission of Burma,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Desert Stars,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Joe Finger,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Carl Craig,
Blossom Toes,
L. Decosne,
Lindisfarne,
PIL,
David Axelrod,
the Association,
Erasure,
Porter Ricks,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Mojo Men,
Chris & Cosey,
Minny Pops,
Tom Boy,
X-102,
8 Eyed Spy,
Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry.
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.