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 South Sudan and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Pretty Things. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlbäck tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Schoolly D record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Can record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Von Mondo,
Livin' Joy,
Josef K,
Average White Band,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Wally Richardson,
Crash Course in Science,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Last Poets,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Joy Division,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Youth Brigade,
Jimmy McGriff,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Funky Four + One,
Ponytail,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Neon Judgement,
Flipper,
Neil Young,
Tomorrow,
Liliput,
The Leaves,
Skarface,
Delta 5,
Bill Wells,
Deadbeat,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Black Dice,
Patti Smith,
Kerri Chandler,
Ultra Naté,
Arcadia,
Rufus Thomas,
MDC,
The Move,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Smiths,
Supertramp,
Rekid,
The Cramps,
Sixth Finger,
Make Up,
Steve Hackett,
The Angels of Light,
Quantec,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Niagra,
Suicide,
Thee Headcoats,
Lindisfarne,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Mojo Men,
Graham Central Station,
David Axelrod,
Arab on Radar,
Minny Pops,
The Searchers,
Urselle,
Matthew Bourne,
The Human League, The Human League, The Human League, The Human League.
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.