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 Jamaica and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Donald Fagen 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 Television Personalities to the grime 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 Wire. All the underground hits.
All June of 44 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mighty Diamonds 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pere Ubu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
R.M.O.,
X-Ray Spex,
These Immortal Souls,
Ice-T,
Tomorrow,
Gang Gang Dance,
Wally Richardson,
Guru Guru,
Popol Vuh,
Vainqueur,
Spandau Ballet,
Ituana,
Pere Ubu,
John Holt,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Throbbing Gristle,
CMW,
Icehouse,
Darondo,
Fat Boys,
Tres Demented,
Jeff Mills,
The Buckinghams,
Soul Sonic Force,
Marc Almond,
The Motions,
Scion,
The American Breed,
Gang Green,
Fela Kuti,
U.S. Maple,
Hot Snakes,
Scratch Acid,
Maleditus Sound,
Tropical Tobacco,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Theoretical Girls,
FM Einheit,
Marvin Gaye,
Sparks,
Sugar Minott,
Gabor Szabo,
Yaz,
Sun City Girls,
The Gun Club,
Bootsy Collins,
Marshall Jefferson,
Minor Threat,
Eli Mardock,
Bobby Womack,
L. Decosne,
Joe Finger,
The Red Krayola,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Durutti Column,
Scientists,
Talk Talk,
Bobbi Humphrey,
T. Rex,
The Shadows of Knight, The Shadows of Knight, The Shadows of Knight, The Shadows of Knight.
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.