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 Haiti and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Blossom Toes to the punk 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 The Cowsills. All the underground hits.
All Scan 7 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Accadde A record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Talk Talk,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Dave Clark Five,
Byron Stingily,
Anthony Braxton,
Cheater Slicks,
Mo-Dettes,
Eric B and Rakim,
Fad Gadget,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Funky Four + One,
Brass Construction,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Music Machine,
Marmalade,
Scion,
Blancmange,
Royal Trux,
Kas Product,
The Tremeloes,
T.S.O.L.,
Joyce Sims,
Patti Smith,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Index,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Crispian St. Peters,
Brick,
OOIOO,
K-Klass,
Cluster,
The Shadows of Knight,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Raincoats,
The Associates,
Zapp,
Rakim,
Blake Baxter,
The Selecter,
Josef K,
Los Fastidios,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Birthday Party,
Black Pus,
Letta Mbulu,
Crispy Ambulance,
Magazine,
Kayak,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Rhythm & Sound,
Loose Ends,
Bluetip,
Ponytail,
T. Rex,
Bad Manners,
Brand Nubian,
Q and Not U,
Agent Orange,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Amon Düül II,
Scratch Acid,
Delta 5,
Joe Finger,
Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans.
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.