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 Lebanon and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the 808 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 Suburban Knight to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Heavy D & The Boyz. All the underground hits.
All Anakelly tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roxy Music 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blake Baxter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monks,
Joey Negro,
Blossom Toes,
Q65,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Eric Copeland,
Dave Gahan,
48th St. Collective,
Sister Nancy,
Joe Finger,
Crime,
The Gun Club,
The Mojo Men,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Peter & Gordon,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
John Coltrane,
The Smiths,
Simply Red,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Franke,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
the Germs,
Don Cherry,
Sam Rivers,
Technova,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Absolute Body Control,
Ten City,
Sun Ra,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gastr Del Sol,
Yaz,
Agent Orange,
Juan Atkins,
Fela Kuti,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Clear Light,
Monks,
Neu!,
Deepchord,
Wally Richardson,
Aaron Thompson,
Boredoms,
Jeru the Damaja,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Robert Hood,
Black Pus,
Robert Wyatt,
New Order,
Eurythmics,
Talk Talk,
Ken Boothe,
Vladislav Delay,
Lou Christie,
The Golliwogs,
Bang On A Can,
The Birthday Party,
Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented.
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.