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 Latvia and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 linndrum 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 Eric B and Rakim to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. All the underground hits.
All Procol Harum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Swans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Residents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faust,
The Pop Group,
Dorothy Ashby,
John Lydon,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Royal Trux,
Letta Mbulu,
Talk Talk,
the Bar-Kays,
Quando Quango,
Jeff Lynne,
Dead Boys,
Duran Duran,
Moebius,
Scan 7,
the Soft Cell,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Fat Boys,
The Shadows of Knight,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Maurizio,
Magazine,
Bobby Byrd,
LL Cool J,
Funkadelic,
Neil Young,
Little Man,
Thee Headcoats,
Charles Mingus,
Black Flag,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Detroit Cobras,
Kaleidoscope,
Derrick May,
Monks,
The Zeros,
Prince Buster,
Harry Pussy,
Stetsasonic,
Crispian St. Peters,
In Retrospect,
Dark Day,
Soul Sonic Force,
H. Thieme,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Bob Dylan,
Dawn Penn,
Neu!,
Bobby Womack,
The Smoke,
Scientists,
Lindisfarne,
Eve St. Jones,
Whodini,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Matthew Bourne,
Trumans Water,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Toni Rubio,
Mantronix,
Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins.
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.