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 Seychelles and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Johannesburg.
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 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 Todd Rundgren to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs. All the underground hits.
All Art Ensemble Of Chicago tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sight & Sound 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alphaville record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeff Lynne,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Bang On A Can,
The Last Poets,
Mary Jane Girls,
The American Breed,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bill Wells,
Jandek,
Massinfluence,
The Star Department,
Janne Schatter,
Tres Demented,
Jacques Brel,
Gil Scott Heron,
Youth Brigade,
Bobby Womack,
Piero Umiliani,
Marvin Gaye,
Rekid,
The Gladiators,
the Association,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Audionom,
Robert Wyatt,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Fortunes,
Kerri Chandler,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Avey Tare,
Can,
The Modern Lovers,
H. Thieme,
Livin' Joy,
Tomorrow,
Man Eating Sloth,
Ituana,
Eve St. Jones,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Delon & Dalcan,
Faraquet,
Camberwell Now,
The J.B.'s,
John Foxx,
Cybotron,
The Kinks,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pole,
Organ,
Sarah Menescal,
Ice-T,
Scientists,
X-102,
The Slits,
Goldenarms,
Gang Starr,
T. Rex,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Gong,
Metal Thangz,
Ohio Players,
Tom Boy,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Alphaville,
The Fall, The Fall, The Fall, The Fall.
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.