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 Ukraine and from Tehran.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 kango's stein massive to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 AZ. All the underground hits.
All Roger Hodgson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 8 Eyed Spy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slave record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Toasters,
Cymande,
the Human League,
Slick Rick,
Dennis Brown,
Scientists,
The Raincoats,
Michelle Simonal,
X-Ray Spex,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Leonard Cohen,
Rufus Thomas,
Eve St. Jones,
The Young Rascals,
Rapeman,
The Golliwogs,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Al Stewart,
Peter & Gordon,
Tom Boy,
L. Decosne,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Jawbox,
Ultravox,
Scrapy,
Bad Manners,
Sun Ra,
The Durutti Column,
Blake Baxter,
Thompson Twins,
Avey Tare,
Los Fastidios,
Lucky Dragons,
Jeru the Damaja,
Fear,
Depeche Mode,
Prince Buster,
Nas,
Section 25,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Angry Samoans,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Sugar Minott,
Gang Green,
Make Up,
The Kinks,
Mandrill,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Fall,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Last Poets,
DJ Sneak,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Skarface,
Steve Hackett,
Young Marble Giants,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Gladiators,
Stereo Dub,
Arthur Verocai,
the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell.
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.