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 Seychelles and from Accra.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Bizarre Inc. to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Country Joe & The Fish. All the underground hits.
All De La Soul & Jungle Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dennis Brown record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Altered Images record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amon Düül,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Vogues,
The American Breed,
The Divine Comedy,
Trumans Water,
Oblivians,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Alarm Clocks,
H. Thieme,
Cameo,
Bronski Beat,
Joey Negro,
Roger Hodgson,
The Knickerbockers,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Barbara Tucker,
Monolake,
Aaron Thompson,
Hot Snakes,
Porter Ricks,
The Electric Prunes,
Sugar Minott,
Reuben Wilson,
Dave Gahan,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
T.S.O.L.,
Davy DMX,
Cybotron,
Can,
Cluster,
Eyeless In Gaza,
the Fania All-Stars,
Malaria!,
Buzzcocks,
kango's stein massive,
Yusef Lateef,
Sparks,
Pantaleimon,
Dawn Penn,
Unrelated Segments,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Zero Boys,
DJ Style,
R.M.O.,
The Last Poets,
Steve Hackett,
This Heat,
Quando Quango,
Livin' Joy,
Fugazi,
Jandek,
Robert Görl,
Supertramp,
The Barracudas,
Pussy Galore,
Sound Behaviour,
Johnny Osbourne,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Lalo Schifrin,
Minny Pops,
Morten Harket, Morten Harket, Morten Harket, Morten Harket.
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.