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 Croatia and from Jakarta.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 chamberlin 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 Sunsets and Hearts to the grunge 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 Matthew Halsall. All the underground hits.
All Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every K-Klass 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a These Immortal Souls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crash Course in Science,
Tubeway Army,
Liliput,
Amazonics,
DJ Sneak,
Buzzcocks,
Marmalade,
Neu!,
Ohio Players,
Can,
Sexual Harrassment,
Public Enemy,
Pole,
Malaria!,
Gichy Dan,
Hoover,
Symarip,
Cheater Slicks,
Glambeats Corp.,
Morten Harket,
Idris Muhammad,
Minny Pops,
The Index,
Cluster,
Talk Talk,
Pagans,
Icehouse,
Aloha Tigers,
Black Sheep,
Panda Bear,
Sonny Sharrock,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Swell Maps,
Rotary Connection,
Bush Tetras,
The Leaves,
The Monks,
The Electric Prunes,
The Gladiators,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sister Nancy,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Skatalites,
K-Klass,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Dirtbombs,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Davy DMX,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Nils Olav,
EPMD,
The Pretty Things,
The Star Department,
Todd Terry,
the Human League,
Aural Exciters,
Moby Grape,
Barrington Levy,
Rakim,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience, Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience, Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience, Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience.
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.