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 Uganda and from Tokyo.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Henry Cow to the rock 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 Idris Muhammad. All the underground hits.
All the Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masters at Work record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nirvana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monolake,
Gang Green,
Brand Nubian,
Newcleus,
Nik Kershaw,
Sun City Girls,
Bang On A Can,
Laurel Aitken,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Cowsills,
JFA,
Anakelly,
B.T. Express,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Misunderstood,
Swell Maps,
Eddi Front,
Cheater Slicks,
Basic Channel,
Tres Demented,
The Move,
Mark Hollis,
Animal Collective,
Slave,
The Shadows of Knight,
Simply Red,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
AZ,
Graham Central Station,
Juan Atkins,
The Doors,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Cybotron,
Masters at Work,
Slick Rick,
The Fuzztones,
Quantec,
Eden Ahbez,
Hardrive,
Outsiders,
Gang Starr,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Seeds,
Sun Ra,
T. Rex,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Wings,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Von Mondo,
Black Pus,
X-102,
Brothers Johnson,
Das Ding,
John Coltrane,
Barry Ungar,
Connie Case,
Chrome,
The Gap Band,
Roger Hodgson,
The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed.
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.