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 Slovakia and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Public Image Ltd. to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Tubeway Army. All the underground hits.
All Sam Rivers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Techniques record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Moon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donny Hathaway,
Henry Cow,
Quadrant,
Aural Exciters,
The Dirtbombs,
Barry Ungar,
L. Decosne,
Terry Callier,
Ten City,
Sex Pistols,
Derrick Morgan,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Red Krayola,
Zero Boys,
Letta Mbulu,
Marshall Jefferson,
Scratch Acid,
Con Funk Shun,
Silicon Teens,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Popol Vuh,
Frankie Knuckles,
Suicide,
Brick,
Wire,
The Fortunes,
Grauzone,
Section 25,
Mo-Dettes,
Bobby Byrd,
Camouflage,
Franke,
Fluxion,
Yusef Lateef,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Residents,
Robert Wyatt,
Nik Kershaw,
The Mummies,
The Smiths,
LL Cool J,
Porter Ricks,
Spoonie Gee,
Matthew Bourne,
The Stooges,
The Remains,
The Leaves,
Bronski Beat,
The Electric Prunes,
Marine Girls,
Swell Maps,
The Victims,
Arthur Verocai,
the Bar-Kays,
Minor Threat,
Kenny Larkin,
Robert Hood,
Lalann,
Colin Newman,
Scan 7,
Soft Machine,
The Monks,
The Trojans, The Trojans, The Trojans, The Trojans.
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.