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 Tanzania and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 The Real Kids to the grime 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 Gang Starr. All the underground hits.
All The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Depeche Mode 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ice-T record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Certain Ratio,
Von Mondo,
Godley & Creme,
The Durutti Column,
Half Japanese,
James White and The Blacks,
Kerrie Biddell,
Traffic Nightmare,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Victims,
Porter Ricks,
Byron Stingily,
Bronski Beat,
Clear Light,
Babytalk,
Mark Hollis,
Derrick May,
Jeff Lynne,
X-102,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Audionom,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Rhythm & Sound,
Reuben Wilson,
The Vogues,
John Coltrane,
Camberwell Now,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
K-Klass,
Metal Thangz,
Big Daddy Kane,
Radio Birdman,
Eve St. Jones,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Ronan,
Tears for Fears,
Crispy Ambulance,
Ronnie Foster,
Circle Jerks,
Man Eating Sloth,
Todd Rundgren,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Kurtis Blow,
Gang Gang Dance,
Lou Christie,
the Swans,
Bad Manners,
Sandy B,
Flamin' Groovies,
Icehouse,
Mars,
The Last Poets,
Iggy Pop,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Tremeloes,
Tom Boy,
Al Stewart,
Minny Pops,
Glenn Branca,
Ice-T,
Interpol,
The New Christs,
Black Bananas,
Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange.
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.