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 Turkmenistan and from New York.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Letta Mbulu to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Vogues. All the underground hits.
All The Doors tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skaos record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Iggy Pop record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Sparks,
Yellowson,
Scan 7,
Nico,
Ten City,
Moebius,
Y Pants,
Soft Machine,
Underground Resistance,
Flamin' Groovies,
Cybotron,
Fluxion,
The Standells,
Liliput,
Urselle,
Desert Stars,
Wolf Eyes,
Leonard Cohen,
Tears for Fears,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Television,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Rotary Connection,
Bluetip,
LL Cool J,
Soft Cell,
Little Man,
DJ Style,
Hashim,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Mad Mike,
48th St. Collective,
The Detroit Cobras,
Harry Pussy,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Dave Gahan,
Guru Guru,
Heaven 17,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Arab on Radar,
The Fall,
Marmalade,
Duran Duran,
Mr. Review,
Loose Ends,
Ornette Coleman,
The Mojo Men,
OOIOO,
Girls At Our Best!,
Royal Trux,
The Slackers,
Supertramp,
Jeru the Damaja,
Metal Thangz,
Vainqueur,
Unwound,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Youth Brigade,
Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic.
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.