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 Fiji and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Soft Cell to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Slackers. All the underground hits.
All John Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Birthday Party record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tom Boy,
The Young Rascals,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Trumans Water,
Silicon Teens,
E-Dancer,
Moss Icon,
a-ha,
Scrapy,
The Residents,
Avey Tare,
The Raincoats,
Ronan,
James White and The Blacks,
Mo-Dettes,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Beau Brummels,
Minor Threat,
The Motions,
Kaleidoscope,
Quantec,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Kerrie Biddell,
Hot Snakes,
Mr. Review,
Godley & Creme,
Barclay James Harvest,
Grey Daturas,
Soft Machine,
Scratch Acid,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Pussy Galore,
Isaac Hayes,
H. Thieme,
the Fania All-Stars,
Scott Walker,
Black Flag,
Matthew Halsall,
Heaven 17,
Chris & Cosey,
Thompson Twins,
Mark Hollis,
Main Source,
8 Eyed Spy,
Japan,
Funkadelic,
Buzzcocks,
Eurythmics,
The Wake,
Junior Murvin,
Ten City,
Nirvana,
Liliput,
Harmonia,
The Mojo Men,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Arcadia,
Black Pus,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Dave Gahan,
New Age Steppers,
Cecil Taylor,
Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop.
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.