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 Gambia and from Houston.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Tehran.
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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Aural Exciters to the dance 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 Gerry Rafferty. All the underground hits.
All Warren Ellis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gichy Dan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
Chrome,
Yellowson,
Wolf Eyes,
Sixth Finger,
Tres Demented,
Mandrill,
Crash Course in Science,
Magazine,
Chris Corsano,
Eric Dolphy,
Pere Ubu,
Fad Gadget,
L. Decosne,
X-101,
Bill Near,
Derrick Morgan,
Simply Red,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Moleskins,
Lungfish,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Bootsy Collins,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Howard Jones,
Royal Trux,
Wings,
the Normal,
Outsiders,
Theoretical Girls,
Silicon Teens,
The Index,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Stooges,
Jeru the Damaja,
Television,
The Red Krayola,
Pulsallama,
T. Rex,
Ice-T,
Flipper,
The Move,
kango's stein massive,
Inner City,
Charles Mingus,
Shuggie Otis,
Terry Callier,
John Coltrane,
Bronski Beat,
Brothers Johnson,
Lou Christie,
The Kinks,
Rakim,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Frankie Knuckles,
Rufus Thomas,
Blossom Toes,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Sound,
The Gun Club,
Negative Approach,
Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses.
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.