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 Suriname and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in 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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 Lou Reed 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 Mars to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 New York Dolls. All the underground hits.
All MC5 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smiths record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fat Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar 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 Remains,
The Seeds,
Janne Schatter,
Icehouse,
Kool Moe Dee,
Lindisfarne,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Amon Düül II,
Drive Like Jehu,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Brothers Johnson,
The Grass Roots,
Mandrill,
Mark Hollis,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bauhaus,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Sällskapet,
Hasil Adkins,
The Walker Brothers,
The Gun Club,
Traffic Nightmare,
The United States of America,
Youth Brigade,
Crash Course in Science,
Bronski Beat,
Adolescents,
Don Cherry,
The Dead C,
The Fugs,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
X-101,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Blancmange,
Hot Snakes,
The Techniques,
Rites of Spring,
Joy Division,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Fatback Band,
Organ,
Goldenarms,
The Five Americans,
James White and The Blacks,
Thompson Twins,
the Bar-Kays,
Half Japanese,
Schoolly D,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Gil Scott Heron,
Lee Hazlewood,
Brass Construction,
The Blues Magoos,
Susan Cadogan,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Underground Resistance,
Quadrant,
Boogie Down Productions,
Massinfluence, Massinfluence, Massinfluence, Massinfluence.
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.