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 Guyana and from Houston.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Paris.
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 sitar 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 L. Decosne to the techno 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 Ice-T. All the underground hits.
All Angry Samoans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alton Ellis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Count Five,
Con Funk Shun,
Eric B and Rakim,
Kayak,
Mo-Dettes,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Matthew Bourne,
The Music Machine,
Goldenarms,
Colin Newman,
Black Moon,
The Gap Band,
Aaron Thompson,
Pet Shop Boys,
Ultimate Spinach,
Intrusion,
Graham Central Station,
Hasil Adkins,
Circle Jerks,
Big Daddy Kane,
Pussy Galore,
David McCallum,
Crime,
Eve St. Jones,
Y Pants,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Roxette,
Judy Mowatt,
Crispy Ambulance,
Swans,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Gladiators,
Don Cherry,
The Angels of Light,
Grauzone,
Juan Atkins,
The Gories,
Sunsets and Hearts,
This Heat,
Pere Ubu,
Roger Hodgson,
Simply Red,
Essential Logic,
Section 25,
Los Fastidios,
Terrestrial Tones,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Tremeloes,
The Fortunes,
Magazine,
Cecil Taylor,
Au Pairs,
Black Bananas,
Tres Demented,
Ultravox,
Moebius,
Gang Green,
Scott Walker,
Sex Pistols,
B.T. Express,
MC5,
The Sound,
World's Most, World's Most, World's Most, World's Most.
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.