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 Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 clarinet 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 the Human League to the rock 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 This Heat. All the underground hits.
All Grauzone tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camberwell Now 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx 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?
Lakeside,
One Last Wish,
Crash Course in Science,
Swans,
These Immortal Souls,
Monks,
Boogie Down Productions,
Cecil Taylor,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Kinks,
Sexual Harrassment,
MC5,
The Index,
Bill Near,
Johnny Clarke,
The Doobie Brothers,
Eli Mardock,
Fear,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ossler,
Vladislav Delay,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sixth Finger,
Bobby Sherman,
Minnie Riperton,
Robert Wyatt,
Alison Limerick,
Todd Rundgren,
Suicide,
The Electric Prunes,
Whodini,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
48th St. Collective,
Pharoah Sanders,
a-ha,
Bluetip,
Quando Quango,
The Black Dice,
Rod Modell,
The Golliwogs,
Ultravox,
Matthew Halsall,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Jacob Miller,
The Motions,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Trojans,
Anakelly,
Jimmy McGriff,
Rekid,
Sister Nancy,
Easy Going,
John Cale,
Bob Dylan,
Qualms,
Scion,
The Real Kids,
Livin' Joy,
Todd Terry,
Howard Jones,
the Slits, the Slits, the Slits, the Slits.
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.