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 Afghanistan and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Cameo 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 Joyce Sims. All the underground hits.
All Ornette Coleman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Hill record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a FM Einheit record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
Sun City Girls,
China Crisis,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
the Fania All-Stars,
Yusef Lateef,
John Holt,
Fugazi,
Man Eating Sloth,
Das Ding,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Connie Case,
Blossom Toes,
The Five Americans,
Technova,
U.S. Maple,
The Zeros,
Deakin,
Severed Heads,
Underground Resistance,
The Real Kids,
Don Cherry,
The Beau Brummels,
Electric Prunes,
Warsaw,
The Seeds,
Funkadelic,
Moss Icon,
Leonard Cohen,
The Saints,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Residents,
Second Layer,
Skaos,
Interpol,
Make Up,
Robert Wyatt,
Panda Bear,
Little Man,
Neu!,
Letta Mbulu,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
the Bar-Kays,
Sandy B,
The Wake,
Swell Maps,
Nirvana,
Franke,
Popol Vuh,
Man Parrish,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Jeff Mills,
The Victims,
CMW,
Bush Tetras,
The Selecter,
The Gladiators,
B.T. Express,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Michelle Simonal,
Echo & the Bunnymen, Echo & the Bunnymen, Echo & the Bunnymen, Echo & the Bunnymen.
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.