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 Uruguay and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 harpsichord 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 Sad Lovers and Giants 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 Spandau Ballet. All the underground hits.
All The Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eurythmics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Matthew Halsall,
Fat Boys,
Ponytail,
Howard Jones,
Jesper Dahlback,
Robert Wyatt,
Theoretical Girls,
Sex Pistols,
Soft Machine,
Man Parrish,
Ohio Players,
Rotary Connection,
Dennis Brown,
The Saints,
Ken Boothe,
Zapp,
Lungfish,
The Slackers,
Junior Murvin,
China Crisis,
Newcleus,
Smog,
The Gories,
48th St. Collective,
The Victims,
Slick Rick,
Robert Hood,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
OOIOO,
Von Mondo,
Blake Baxter,
Alison Limerick,
The Angels of Light,
The Mummies,
JFA,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
June of 44,
The American Breed,
Jandek,
Fatback Band,
Section 25,
Metal Thangz,
Bronski Beat,
Bobby Womack,
Grauzone,
Curtis Mayfield,
Duran Duran,
Khruangbin,
Throbbing Gristle,
the Soft Cell,
Traffic Nightmare,
Pet Shop Boys,
Susan Cadogan,
Joy Division,
Moby Grape,
The Fire Engines,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Henry Cow,
David Axelrod,
Silicon Teens,
Scan 7,
David McCallum,
Pussy Galore,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.