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 Poland and from Bologna.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Q65. All the underground hits.
All The Walker Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neu! record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Infiniti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Marmalade,
Chrome,
Reuben Wilson,
Cymande,
X-101,
Harry Pussy,
Danielle Patucci,
In Retrospect,
Hasil Adkins,
Q65,
Fad Gadget,
H. Thieme,
KRS-One,
LL Cool J,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Swell Maps,
The Shadows of Knight,
Tom Boy,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Camberwell Now,
Tomorrow,
Sight & Sound,
The Monochrome Set,
Cal Tjader,
Johnny Osbourne,
Amon Düül,
Whodini,
The Black Dice,
Depeche Mode,
Scientists,
Ronan,
The Zeros,
Johnny Clarke,
Erasure,
Gil Scott Heron,
New York Dolls,
Glenn Branca,
Neu!,
The Gap Band,
The Saints,
Angry Samoans,
Quando Quango,
Agent Orange,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Pierre Henry,
Minnie Riperton,
The Index,
Heaven 17,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Fela Kuti,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Boogie Down Productions,
Eddi Front,
Qualms,
Grey Daturas,
The American Breed,
The Birthday Party,
Essential Logic,
The Cure, The Cure, The Cure, The Cure.
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.