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 Tuvalu and from Houston.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 808 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 Mo-Dettes to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 D'Angelo. All the underground hits.
All The Toasters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every These Immortal Souls 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nation of Ulysses 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?
Black Pus,
Laurel Aitken,
Grey Daturas,
Television,
the Bar-Kays,
Freddie Wadling,
Motorama,
Toni Rubio,
Q and Not U,
The Selecter,
The Fuzztones,
Tomorrow,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Wake,
Qualms,
Pagans,
The Motions,
Scott Walker,
8 Eyed Spy,
Spoonie Gee,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Wally Richardson,
Das Ding,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Cymande,
Zapp,
Nick Fraelich,
The Vogues,
Susan Cadogan,
Easy Going,
Marine Girls,
Faust,
Barbara Tucker,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Porter Ricks,
DJ Style,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Boogie Down Productions,
Animal Collective,
Alphaville,
Pantaleimon,
Sun City Girls,
Jeff Lynne,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Star Department,
Avey Tare,
Matthew Bourne,
Sunsets and Hearts,
the Human League,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Q65,
Angry Samoans,
Japan,
Sixth Finger,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Subhumans,
Nirvana,
Mad Mike,
Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman.
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.