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 Zambia and from Beijing.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Reuben Wilson to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Arab on Radar. All the underground hits.
All The Music Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Excepter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Stooges record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Five Americans,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Leaves,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Skatalites,
Laurel Aitken,
OOIOO,
Bronski Beat,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Neu!,
Minnie Riperton,
Country Teasers,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Average White Band,
Darondo,
Joy Division,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Morten Harket,
Stereo Dub,
The Gladiators,
Bang On A Can,
Schoolly D,
One Last Wish,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Gun Club,
Delta 5,
Drive Like Jehu,
Khruangbin,
MDC,
Fad Gadget,
Dual Sessions,
Harmonia,
Brothers Johnson,
Fela Kuti,
Circle Jerks,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Tremeloes,
Talk Talk,
The Gories,
Ken Boothe,
Mo-Dettes,
Ultra Naté,
Bill Wells,
Jeff Lynne,
Deepchord,
Bush Tetras,
Tropical Tobacco,
Susan Cadogan,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sparks,
Angry Samoans,
Mad Mike,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Vainqueur,
Oneida,
X-Ray Spex,
Niagra,
The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola.
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.