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 Burundi and from Milan.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Knickerbockers to the funk 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 Nation of Ulysses. All the underground hits.
All Brand Nubian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Susan Cadogan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Davy DMX record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
Animal Collective,
Chris & Cosey,
Cal Tjader,
Don Cherry,
F. McDonald,
Rites of Spring,
Wolf Eyes,
The Fuzztones,
The Misunderstood,
Pere Ubu,
DJ Sneak,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Monks,
Supertramp,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Country Teasers,
Electric Prunes,
Jerry's Kids,
Roxette,
La Düsseldorf,
Kayak,
kango's stein massive,
The Gun Club,
Bootsy Collins,
Nik Kershaw,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Anakelly,
CMW,
Accadde A,
Faust,
Deadbeat,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Alarm Clocks,
John Foxx,
David Axelrod,
Kerrie Biddell,
Rapeman,
Ludus,
Sexual Harrassment,
the Sonics,
The Blackbyrds,
Lalann,
The Buckinghams,
Fat Boys,
Amon Düül,
Mad Mike,
Bobby Womack,
Heaven 17,
Roy Ayers,
Drive Like Jehu,
Gang of Four,
Young Marble Giants,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Q and Not U,
The Black Dice,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Robert Görl,
Mary Jane Girls,
Glambeats Corp.,
Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu.
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.