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 Tanzania and from Jakarta.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Aaron Thompson to the disco 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 Erasure. All the underground hits.
All Supertramp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Manfred Mann's Earth Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Tim Buckley,
Gastr Del Sol,
LL Cool J,
Johnny Clarke,
The Fall,
Marshall Jefferson,
Stereo Dub,
The Knickerbockers,
Yusef Lateef,
The Dirtbombs,
The Buckinghams,
Hoover,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Japan,
Glenn Branca,
Eli Mardock,
The Beau Brummels,
Faraquet,
Black Pus,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Brass Construction,
Masters at Work,
Liliput,
The Gories,
Albert Ayler,
The Zeros,
Inner City,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Litter,
Loose Ends,
Sällskapet,
Mr. Review,
EPMD,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
R.M.O.,
Sunsets and Hearts,
the Fania All-Stars,
Cameo,
The Blues Magoos,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Public Enemy,
Connie Case,
Bush Tetras,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Wasted Youth,
Gichy Dan,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
This Heat,
Josef K,
Lalo Schifrin,
Henry Cow,
KRS-One,
the Sonics,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Todd Terry,
Circle Jerks,
Oneida,
Piero Umiliani,
the Germs,
Jacob Miller,
Hashim,
X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex.
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.