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 Philippines and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 spring reverb 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 June of 44 to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 David Axelrod. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sandy B record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grauzone,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Aloha Tigers,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Drive Like Jehu,
Don Cherry,
Nation of Ulysses,
FM Einheit,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Scrapy,
Pantaleimon,
Vainqueur,
Neil Young,
Dual Sessions,
Ten City,
kango's stein massive,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Ultra Naté,
Kerri Chandler,
John Holt,
The Young Rascals,
Bootsy Collins,
Joy Division,
Ornette Coleman,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Malaria!,
Harry Pussy,
Pussy Galore,
June of 44,
Girls At Our Best!,
Cheater Slicks,
Monks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Radio Birdman,
Reuben Wilson,
The Stooges,
The Grass Roots,
David Axelrod,
Infiniti,
Wolf Eyes,
Tommy Roe,
Grandmaster Flash,
Stiv Bators,
Yazoo,
Audionom,
Lee Hazlewood,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Divine Comedy,
Bill Wells,
Black Moon,
Pantytec,
Au Pairs,
Suicide,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Ludus,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Slick Rick,
Eddi Front,
Sam Rivers,
Suburban Knight,
Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys.
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.