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 Sri Lanka and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 Tokyo and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Qualms to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All The Birthday Party tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 rhodes and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bob Dylan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cabaret Voltaire,
Scientists,
Lakeside,
FM Einheit,
Zero Boys,
Flipper,
Unwound,
Erasure,
Mars,
The Standells,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Ken Boothe,
LL Cool J,
Yaz,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Pretty Things,
Au Pairs,
Gichy Dan,
Warren Ellis,
Tommy Roe,
Nik Kershaw,
Hot Snakes,
Visage,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Velvet Underground,
Byron Stingily,
Parry Music,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Smiths,
Suburban Knight,
Lower 48,
Agent Orange,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Peter and Kerry,
Oneida,
DJ Style,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Morten Harket,
the Association,
Sister Nancy,
Carl Craig,
The Raincoats,
Gregory Isaacs,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Eyeless In Gaza,
OOIOO,
The Busters,
Soul Sonic Force,
Reagan Youth,
The Sound,
Mary Jane Girls,
Dual Sessions,
Jesper Dahlback,
Iggy Pop,
The Walker Brothers,
Radiohead,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Leaves,
Man Parrish,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Stereo Dub,
Simply Red, Simply Red, Simply Red, Simply Red.
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.