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 Somalia and from Winnipeg.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the snare 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 Los Fastidios to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Larry & the Blue Notes. All the underground hits.
All Fat Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Fraelich 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Vladislav Delay record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New York Dolls,
Crash Course in Science,
Yellowson,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Faraquet,
Robert Wyatt,
Todd Rundgren,
Royal Trux,
The Cowsills,
Theoretical Girls,
Accadde A,
Dead Boys,
Marc Almond,
Letta Mbulu,
DJ Sneak,
Quando Quango,
Warsaw,
Massinfluence,
Oblivians,
MDC,
Gichy Dan,
Lalann,
Mr. Review,
Robert Hood,
Nick Fraelich,
Bronski Beat,
The Names,
Cameo,
Eurythmics,
Donald Byrd,
A Certain Ratio,
The Standells,
Khruangbin,
Flash Fearless,
Sällskapet,
Thompson Twins,
The United States of America,
Rakim,
KRS-One,
Tommy Roe,
Barbara Tucker,
The Gories,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Howard Jones,
Brand Nubian,
The Dead C,
Henry Cow,
Mark Hollis,
John Holt,
Laurel Aitken,
Bauhaus,
Man Parrish,
D'Angelo,
the Swans,
Wings,
Boogie Down Productions,
Panda Bear,
Wolf Eyes,
Radiohead, Radiohead, Radiohead, Radiohead.
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.