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 Lebanon and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Sparks to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Cybotron. All the underground hits.
All The American Breed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Matthew Halsall,
Angry Samoans,
Sandy B,
Magazine,
Mary Jane Girls,
Funkadelic,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sexual Harrassment,
Wasted Youth,
Quando Quango,
Derrick Morgan,
F. McDonald,
Alice Coltrane,
Cameo,
Kaleidoscope,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Brick,
The Real Kids,
Franke,
The Gap Band,
Sällskapet,
Terry Callier,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Gladiators,
Echospace,
Khruangbin,
Kerri Chandler,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Arcadia,
Flash Fearless,
AZ,
Ornette Coleman,
Joe Smooth,
Buzzcocks,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Sound,
Man Eating Sloth,
Stereo Dub,
Slave,
The Fortunes,
Jeff Lynne,
Rotary Connection,
Y Pants,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Black Moon,
The Fuzztones,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
John Holt,
Dennis Brown,
Dead Boys,
John Lydon,
Talk Talk,
June of 44,
Jerry's Kids,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Darondo,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Crash Course in Science,
Soft Cell,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Barracudas,
Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn.
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.