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 Bahamas and from Woodstock.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 güiro 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 Donald Byrd to the techno 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 Tommy Roe. All the underground hits.
All Matthew Halsall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Drexciya 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 48th St. Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Prunes,
China Crisis,
Terrestrial Tones,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Misunderstood,
Charles Mingus,
Boogie Down Productions,
Slave,
Monolake,
The Blackbyrds,
Gang Green,
Ultra Naté,
Nik Kershaw,
Gil Scott Heron,
Wally Richardson,
Unwound,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
AZ,
Porter Ricks,
The Raincoats,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Derrick May,
The Fuzztones,
Popol Vuh,
the Bar-Kays,
Soft Cell,
Nation of Ulysses,
Scratch Acid,
Kas Product,
Half Japanese,
The Martian,
Von Mondo,
Yusef Lateef,
Black Sheep,
Lungfish,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Beasts of Bourbon,
OOIOO,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Jawbox,
Average White Band,
Blossom Toes,
Newcleus,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Dirtbombs,
Scan 7,
Prince Buster,
Lebanon Hanover,
Supertramp,
Quadrant,
The Count Five,
Aural Exciters,
the Soft Cell,
Letta Mbulu,
The Gories,
Frankie Knuckles,
Monks,
The Neon Judgement,
Alphaville,
The Techniques, The Techniques, The Techniques, The Techniques.
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.