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 Niger and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Lyon.
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 rhodes 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 These Immortal Souls to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Erykah Badu. All the underground hits.
All Eyeless In Gaza tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heaven 17 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Velvet Underground record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Frankie Knuckles,
Kurtis Blow,
Faust,
Bush Tetras,
Essential Logic,
Roxette,
June Days,
Joy Division,
Talk Talk,
Bill Near,
Kenny Larkin,
The Alarm Clocks,
Q and Not U,
The Beau Brummels,
Crash Course in Science,
Urselle,
Robert Hood,
Q65,
Pantaleimon,
Subhumans,
Mad Mike,
Young Marble Giants,
Average White Band,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Neon Judgement,
Reagan Youth,
Godley & Creme,
Stereo Dub,
Ludus,
Youth Brigade,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Von Mondo,
Anthony Braxton,
Deakin,
Connie Case,
Eve St. Jones,
R.M.O.,
Lou Reed,
Oneida,
Spandau Ballet,
Silicon Teens,
The Litter,
Al Stewart,
Stetsasonic,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Durutti Column,
Little Man,
The Leaves,
Intrusion,
Kerri Chandler,
Bad Manners,
Audionom,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
48th St. Collective,
Unrelated Segments,
The Dirtbombs,
DNA,
Bauhaus,
Ossler,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Icehouse,
The Names,
Spoonie Gee,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat.
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.