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 Bangladesh and from Tehran.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 Holger Czukay 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 Wasted Youth to the funk 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 Vladislav Delay. All the underground hits.
All MC5 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Laurel Aitken record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
Kenny Larkin,
Ornette Coleman,
Alphaville,
A Certain Ratio,
Lucky Dragons,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
D'Angelo,
Derrick Morgan,
Anthony Braxton,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
John Cale,
Soft Cell,
David Bowie,
Electric Prunes,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Lou Christie,
David McCallum,
Peter and Kerry,
Marine Girls,
Schoolly D,
Lightning Bolt,
The Fugs,
Bootsy Collins,
Eve St. Jones,
Vladislav Delay,
The Kinks,
Babytalk,
Carl Craig,
Pagans,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Country Teasers,
Minny Pops,
Public Enemy,
Bill Near,
Sarah Menescal,
Peter & Gordon,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Sound,
Gang Starr,
Marvin Gaye,
Symarip,
Drive Like Jehu,
Mark Hollis,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Junior Murvin,
John Foxx,
Metal Thangz,
Archie Shepp,
Fela Kuti,
Sun Ra,
The Seeds,
Oblivians,
Sugar Minott,
Suburban Knight,
Royal Trux,
The Fortunes,
Chris & Cosey,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Parry Music,
the Swans,
Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane.
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.