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 Kazakhstan and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Alison Limerick to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Sandy B. All the underground hits.
All Derrick May tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every B.T. Express record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arab on Radar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
James White and The Blacks,
The Real Kids,
June of 44,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Dave Clark Five,
Connie Case,
Albert Ayler,
Eddi Front,
Tom Boy,
Marvin Gaye,
Pole,
DJ Sneak,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Ohio Players,
PIL,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
the Germs,
Magma,
Q65,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
the Slits,
Archie Shepp,
The Techniques,
Schoolly D,
Los Fastidios,
The Shadows of Knight,
Scientists,
David Axelrod,
The Selecter,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Maurizio,
Minnie Riperton,
Kerrie Biddell,
Camberwell Now,
The Wake,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Delon & Dalcan,
Slave,
Chrome,
The Kinks,
The Divine Comedy,
Lakeside,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Blossom Toes,
Magazine,
Flipper,
Lou Reed,
Jerry's Kids,
Mr. Review,
Boogie Down Productions,
Darondo,
Pantytec,
The Toasters,
Bad Manners,
Lower 48,
Peter and Kerry,
Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti.
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.