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 Luxembourg and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the 808 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 The Doobie Brothers to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 John Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Patti Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scan 7 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Public Image Ltd. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Pop Group,
Pole,
Sound Behaviour,
The Move,
Tom Boy,
Soul Sonic Force,
The New Christs,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Urselle,
Gang of Four,
Electric Prunes,
Sight & Sound,
Moss Icon,
DJ Sneak,
Skarface,
Scientists,
Lyres,
Black Pus,
Lungfish,
Warren Ellis,
Lebanon Hanover,
Newcleus,
Bizarre Inc.,
Desert Stars,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Popol Vuh,
Nik Kershaw,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Robert Hood,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Gang Gang Dance,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Isaac Hayes,
James White and The Blacks,
Bootsy Collins,
Eddi Front,
John Cale,
Nation of Ulysses,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Essential Logic,
Morten Harket,
Groovy Waters,
The Litter,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Section 25,
Hoover,
CMW,
ABC,
Danielle Patucci,
Slave,
Parry Music,
Soft Machine,
Blake Baxter,
Graham Central Station,
Leonard Cohen,
Technova,
Eric B and Rakim,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Joe Smooth,
AZ,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band, Manfred Mann's Earth Band, Manfred Mann's Earth Band, Manfred Mann's Earth Band.
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.