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 Cape Verde and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Monks to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Glenn Branca. All the underground hits.
All Strawberry Alarm Clock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thee Headcoats record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Los Fastidios,
Connie Case,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Scrapy,
Crash Course in Science,
Second Layer,
Al Stewart,
Saccharine Trust,
Mandrill,
The Gap Band,
The Knickerbockers,
The Litter,
Tomorrow,
The Tremeloes,
Darondo,
Pharoah Sanders,
R.M.O.,
Drexciya,
The Dirtbombs,
Khruangbin,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Yusef Lateef,
China Crisis,
Bluetip,
The Happenings,
F. McDonald,
Fugazi,
Marcia Griffiths,
Young Marble Giants,
Groovy Waters,
Hot Snakes,
Brass Construction,
Spandau Ballet,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Monochrome Set,
John Lydon,
Joyce Sims,
Minnie Riperton,
Bang On A Can,
Faraquet,
Spoonie Gee,
Scion,
Intrusion,
Silicon Teens,
Ponytail,
Mars,
Brand Nubian,
Skaos,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Fear,
Babytalk,
KRS-One,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Doors,
Kurtis Blow,
DJ Sneak,
June of 44,
Cymande,
Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans.
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.