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 Sierra Leone and from Copenhagen.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 rhodes 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 DJ Style to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Prince Buster. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott Heron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ludus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dorothy Ashby record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moleskins,
Stockholm Monsters,
Michelle Simonal,
R.M.O.,
Joey Negro,
Bobby Sherman,
Kerri Chandler,
Oneida,
Simply Red,
Mad Mike,
Goldenarms,
X-101,
Patti Smith,
F. McDonald,
Tommy Roe,
The Gories,
Bluetip,
Sex Pistols,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Pulsallama,
Fatback Band,
Anakelly,
Cheater Slicks,
Idris Muhammad,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Knickerbockers,
Model 500,
Second Layer,
Archie Shepp,
The Alarm Clocks,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Mark Hollis,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Slick Rick,
Absolute Body Control,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Mr. Review,
Deadbeat,
The Pretty Things,
Public Enemy,
John Cale,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Divine Comedy,
Laurel Aitken,
Leonard Cohen,
Kurtis Blow,
Carl Craig,
Kenny Larkin,
Monks,
Roger Hodgson,
Cecil Taylor,
Yazoo,
Tomorrow,
The Move,
Darondo,
Scientists,
The Star Department,
The Birthday Party,
Animal Collective,
E-Dancer,
Scion,
The Durutti Column,
PIL,
The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos.
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.