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 Somalia and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 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 Liliput to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Flamin' Groovies. All the underground hits.
All One Last Wish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Gang Dance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Junior Murvin,
The Monochrome Set,
Brick,
Bob Dylan,
The Martian,
PIL,
Mission of Burma,
Black Pus,
Essential Logic,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Janne Schatter,
Maleditus Sound,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The J.B.'s,
Icehouse,
Curtis Mayfield,
Ken Boothe,
Jeff Lynne,
Cecil Taylor,
Babytalk,
Lalo Schifrin,
Barclay James Harvest,
Peter & Gordon,
The Wake,
La Düsseldorf,
Kas Product,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Gastr Del Sol,
The American Breed,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Ossler,
Letta Mbulu,
Gabor Szabo,
Bobby Sherman,
Soul Sonic Force,
Electric Prunes,
Brand Nubian,
Procol Harum,
Magma,
Don Cherry,
Rekid,
Nils Olav,
H. Thieme,
Thee Headcoats,
Eric B and Rakim,
Can,
Glambeats Corp.,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Blake Baxter,
Lalann,
Sandy B,
The Human League,
Mad Mike,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Todd Terry,
Franke,
Michelle Simonal,
Inner City,
The Real Kids,
Fatback Band,
Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode.
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.