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 Malta and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 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 Eve St. Jones to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Neon Judgement. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Lynne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every ABBA record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Holt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stetsasonic,
Whodini,
Surgeon,
Kas Product,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Jacob Miller,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Ludus,
Bronski Beat,
Janne Schatter,
Glambeats Corp.,
Slave,
Interpol,
Talk Talk,
Heaven 17,
8 Eyed Spy,
Brick,
Cameo,
Andrew Hill,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Doobie Brothers,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Evens,
the Swans,
The Alarm Clocks,
Peter and Kerry,
Bad Manners,
Jeru the Damaja,
Deakin,
The Zeros,
Flash Fearless,
Mary Jane Girls,
Boredoms,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Groovy Waters,
Joensuu 1685,
Stockholm Monsters,
the Normal,
Quando Quango,
Loose Ends,
The Names,
DJ Style,
the Human League,
Minor Threat,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The American Breed,
H. Thieme,
Iggy Pop,
Yazoo,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Underground Resistance,
Joy Division,
Second Layer,
Roy Ayers,
Brass Construction,
Piero Umiliani,
Siglo XX,
Harry Pussy,
Icehouse,
Visage,
Technova,
Amazonics,
Maurizio,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.