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 India and from Milan.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Cecil Taylor to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Slick Rick. All the underground hits.
All Ituana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eurythmics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mummies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Juan Atkins,
Judy Mowatt,
The Evens,
The Divine Comedy,
Aural Exciters,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Harry Pussy,
Swans,
Donald Byrd,
Tears for Fears,
Kool Moe Dee,
Liliput,
Little Man,
Section 25,
Sandy B,
Minny Pops,
Dave Gahan,
Jacques Brel,
Fela Kuti,
Gastr Del Sol,
Cecil Taylor,
Livin' Joy,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Moody Blues,
The Searchers,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Idris Muhammad,
Groovy Waters,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Johnny Clarke,
Eric B and Rakim,
Bootsy Collins,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Stiv Bators,
Scientists,
the Slits,
Max Romeo,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Jawbox,
Gang Gang Dance,
In Retrospect,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Gories,
The Victims,
The Misunderstood,
Slave,
a-ha,
PIL,
The Index,
Ossler,
Alison Limerick,
Smog,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Marine Girls,
Althea and Donna,
Bronski Beat,
The Wake,
The Mummies,
Don Cherry,
Connie Case,
World's Most,
Funky Four + One,
Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones.
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.