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 Kuwait and from Manila.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 PIL. All the underground hits.
All Maleditus Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Machine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Parry Music record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pantaleimon,
Nas,
Scientists,
Cameo,
Section 25,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
T.S.O.L.,
Chrome,
Sexual Harrassment,
Derrick Morgan,
Kool Moe Dee,
Hoover,
Kenny Larkin,
Deadbeat,
The Durutti Column,
Liliput,
The Velvet Underground,
Theoretical Girls,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Howard Jones,
Spandau Ballet,
Carl Craig,
Thee Headcoats,
David McCallum,
Urselle,
Susan Cadogan,
Johnny Clarke,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Beau Brummels,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Invisible,
the Swans,
Eli Mardock,
Pylon,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Raincoats,
Easy Going,
kango's stein massive,
Black Pus,
Gang of Four,
Bob Dylan,
Fugazi,
Bobby Byrd,
Buzzcocks,
Nils Olav,
Arab on Radar,
Clear Light,
Agitation Free,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Tommy Roe,
The Detroit Cobras,
Deakin,
Public Image Ltd.,
Chris & Cosey,
Barbara Tucker,
Barrington Levy,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Slick Rick,
Ultravox,
Traffic Nightmare,
MDC,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton.
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.