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 Algeria and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 Hong Kong and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Donald Fagen 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 Popol Vuh to the grunge 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 Jeru the Damaja. All the underground hits.
All Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slackers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angels of Light & Akron/Family record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Godley & Creme,
Spandau Ballet,
Sandy B,
Mission of Burma,
Rhythm & Sound,
Shuggie Otis,
Public Enemy,
Erykah Badu,
Mr. Review,
Rapeman,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Country Teasers,
Intrusion,
Mad Mike,
Fluxion,
Deakin,
Bush Tetras,
Outsiders,
Sexual Harrassment,
Quadrant,
Cheater Slicks,
Sugar Minott,
Yellowson,
Second Layer,
Josef K,
Pantaleimon,
Throbbing Gristle,
Albert Ayler,
Sex Pistols,
Infiniti,
One Last Wish,
Subhumans,
Minnie Riperton,
Interpol,
Amon Düül II,
The Fire Engines,
New Order,
Barclay James Harvest,
John Holt,
LL Cool J,
Isaac Hayes,
Terry Callier,
Kurtis Blow,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Lyres,
Angry Samoans,
The Young Rascals,
Reuben Wilson,
Ohio Players,
Tropical Tobacco,
the Bar-Kays,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Slave,
X-Ray Spex,
Skaos,
Al Stewart,
Desert Stars,
Siglo XX,
KRS-One,
The Vogues,
Toni Rubio,
Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond.
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.