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 Liechtenstein and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Madrid.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Star Department to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Tres Demented. All the underground hits.
All Country Joe & The Fish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Albert Ayler 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a AZ record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Unrelated Segments,
Goldenarms,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
One Last Wish,
Donald Byrd,
Quantec,
Tommy Roe,
The Index,
Maleditus Sound,
ABBA,
Accadde A,
Interpol,
Pole,
R.M.O.,
Kurtis Blow,
Sonny Sharrock,
Essential Logic,
the Slits,
Danielle Patucci,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Crispy Ambulance,
Minny Pops,
Lindisfarne,
Hoover,
Mr. Review,
The Gladiators,
Shoche,
Joensuu 1685,
Patti Smith,
The Selecter,
Funkadelic,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
These Immortal Souls,
Talk Talk,
Fatback Band,
Adolescents,
DJ Sneak,
Sun City Girls,
Soft Machine,
Duran Duran,
Freddie Wadling,
Scratch Acid,
Circle Jerks,
Chris Corsano,
Aswad,
Arcadia,
Saccharine Trust,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Joy Division,
June of 44,
Public Image Ltd.,
Hot Snakes,
The Electric Prunes,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
a-ha,
Amazonics,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Mandrill,
The Toasters,
Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo.
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.