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 Argentina and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 mellotron 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 Buzzcocks to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Kevin Saunderson. All the underground hits.
All Man Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Depeche Mode record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harmonia,
kango's stein massive,
Das Ding,
Supertramp,
Oblivians,
The Offenders,
Gregory Isaacs,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Tremeloes,
Deadbeat,
Fatback Band,
Eli Mardock,
Surgeon,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Accadde A,
Man Parrish,
John Cale,
Flamin' Groovies,
Drexciya,
The Associates,
Thee Headcoats,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
JFA,
Boz Scaggs,
The Sonics,
Soulsonic Force,
Swell Maps,
Blake Baxter,
Soft Machine,
James White and The Blacks,
Fear,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Radiopuhelimet,
Goldenarms,
Harry Pussy,
Byron Stingily,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Roy Ayers,
June Days,
Boredoms,
Radiohead,
Qualms,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
the Fania All-Stars,
John Coltrane,
Darondo,
R.M.O.,
Buzzcocks,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Rosa Yemen,
Lakeside,
Big Daddy Kane,
FM Einheit,
DNA,
Danielle Patucci,
The Saints,
Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh.
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.