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 Ecuador and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Chris Corsano to the crunk 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The New Christs 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Josef K record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Trojans,
The Gap Band,
The Durutti Column,
Mission of Burma,
These Immortal Souls,
Ultra Naté,
Pole,
The Moody Blues,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Gun Club,
48th St. Collective,
Newcleus,
One Last Wish,
Tears for Fears,
Massinfluence,
Juan Atkins,
Lou Christie,
Pantaleimon,
Surgeon,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Eli Mardock,
EPMD,
Slick Rick,
Johnny Osbourne,
Arcadia,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Girls At Our Best!,
Jerry's Kids,
cv313,
Bronski Beat,
Black Sheep,
Scion,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Black Dice,
Bill Near,
Fatback Band,
The United States of America,
The Dave Clark Five,
Deadbeat,
David Bowie,
Eric B and Rakim,
KRS-One,
Deakin,
Inner City,
Clear Light,
The Mummies,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
X-102,
Yusef Lateef,
The Raincoats,
Procol Harum,
The Stooges,
Ponytail,
The Alarm Clocks,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Star Department,
The Pop Group,
Public Enemy,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Bobby Byrd,
Quadrant,
Blake Baxter,
Peter and Kerry,
Sixth Finger,
John Lydon, John Lydon, John Lydon, John Lydon.
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.