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 Bahrain and from Lille.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 The United States of America to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Television Personalities. All the underground hits.
All Althea and Donna tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang of Four record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Inner City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soul II Soul,
Albert Ayler,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Nils Olav,
Das Ding,
Bauhaus,
John Foxx,
The Sonics,
Pierre Henry,
Scrapy,
10cc,
Malaria!,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Blossom Toes,
Lindisfarne,
Whodini,
Patti Smith,
the Bar-Kays,
Slick Rick,
The Count Five,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Aswad,
Dead Boys,
The Human League,
Sam Rivers,
Wings,
Sexual Harrassment,
Niagra,
KRS-One,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Drive Like Jehu,
Rotary Connection,
Funky Four + One,
Nick Fraelich,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Cowsills,
Sister Nancy,
Glenn Branca,
Surgeon,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Black Dice,
The Saints,
Animal Collective,
Crash Course in Science,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Jacques Brel,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Carl Craig,
Glambeats Corp.,
Joe Finger,
Royal Trux,
Alphaville,
June Days,
JFA,
B.T. Express,
Dorothy Ashby,
Ituana, Ituana, Ituana, Ituana.
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.