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 Luxembourg and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 Taipei and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 T. Rex to the disco 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 Eve St. Jones. All the underground hits.
All Dawn Penn tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rosa Yemen 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 güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Human League,
The Blackbyrds,
Wire,
Lou Christie,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Franke,
Bill Near,
Gang Starr,
The Cramps,
The Remains,
Roxy Music,
Magazine,
Aswad,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Birthday Party,
Man Parrish,
Rotary Connection,
Fluxion,
Porter Ricks,
F. McDonald,
Saccharine Trust,
Anthony Braxton,
Roy Ayers,
Ludus,
Harpers Bizarre,
Gong,
Roxette,
the Soft Cell,
Eli Mardock,
Nils Olav,
Neu!,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Spandau Ballet,
The Kinks,
Malaria!,
Gerry Rafferty,
Derrick May,
Amon Düül,
Rekid,
Shoche,
Robert Wyatt,
Matthew Bourne,
The Associates,
Terry Callier,
Goldenarms,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Funkadelic,
Arthur Verocai,
The Golliwogs,
Can,
Frankie Knuckles,
Half Japanese,
Erasure,
the Germs,
Yusef Lateef,
Ohio Players,
The Count Five,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Clear Light,
Banda Bassotti,
Depeche Mode,
Masters at Work,
Skarface, Skarface, Skarface, Skarface.
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.