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 Burkina and from New York.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Tears for Fears to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Kas Product. All the underground hits.
All DeepChord presents Echospace tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blake Baxter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Starr record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Beau Brummels,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Terry Callier,
The Divine Comedy,
The Fugs,
The Cure,
X-Ray Spex,
LL Cool J,
Khruangbin,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Harry Pussy,
Danielle Patucci,
These Immortal Souls,
Soul II Soul,
Black Pus,
The Move,
Pussy Galore,
Goldenarms,
Audionom,
June Days,
Technova,
Lalo Schifrin,
Aloha Tigers,
Circle Jerks,
Zero Boys,
Pulsallama,
Echospace,
Tres Demented,
Vladislav Delay,
The Walker Brothers,
Jerry Gold Smith,
World's Most,
Laurel Aitken,
Reagan Youth,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Joe Smooth,
the Normal,
Don Cherry,
Delta 5,
Infiniti,
Morten Harket,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Eve St. Jones,
Outsiders,
The Fuzztones,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Lyres,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Darondo,
a-ha,
Radio Birdman,
The United States of America,
Eric B and Rakim,
Banda Bassotti,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Graham Central Station,
Jeru the Damaja,
Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick.
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.