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 Guatemala and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 The Kinks 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 Heaven 17. All the underground hits.
All The Golliwogs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Howard Jones 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a ABC record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
Bob Dylan,
Con Funk Shun,
Sparks,
Ituana,
ABBA,
Roy Ayers,
Scion,
A Certain Ratio,
Reuben Wilson,
Alice Coltrane,
The Human League,
Hardrive,
Magazine,
The Trojans,
Traffic Nightmare,
Motorama,
Sonny Sharrock,
Severed Heads,
These Immortal Souls,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Seeds,
The Pop Group,
The Happenings,
F. McDonald,
Pierre Henry,
The Kinks,
Deadbeat,
Dual Sessions,
The Monochrome Set,
Minutemen,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Deepchord,
Nils Olav,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Mark Hollis,
the Slits,
Groovy Waters,
Marcia Griffiths,
Sonic Youth,
Man Parrish,
New Order,
The Black Dice,
Echospace,
Bad Manners,
Prince Buster,
Whodini,
X-Ray Spex,
Lou Christie,
Soft Cell,
Lou Reed,
The Saints,
Dark Day,
Morten Harket,
Johnny Clarke,
Basic Channel,
Sandy B,
Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson.
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.