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 Tuvalu and from Mumbai.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Five Americans to the electroclash 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 Juan Atkins. All the underground hits.
All The Cramps tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hoover 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bauhaus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
China Crisis,
Shuggie Otis,
Oneida,
The Misunderstood,
David Axelrod,
Henry Cow,
Rakim,
the Normal,
the Association,
Lindisfarne,
X-102,
Robert Wyatt,
The Durutti Column,
LL Cool J,
Gang Starr,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Glambeats Corp.,
Model 500,
Spoonie Gee,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Golliwogs,
Don Cherry,
Desert Stars,
Tres Demented,
Connie Case,
Pylon,
Japan,
The Detroit Cobras,
Junior Murvin,
Black Moon,
Kaleidoscope,
Mars,
Nik Kershaw,
Faraquet,
Jerry's Kids,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Mummies,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Terrestrial Tones,
Cameo,
Niagra,
Rod Modell,
Tomorrow,
The Young Rascals,
Bad Manners,
Dennis Brown,
Rotary Connection,
Colin Newman,
Fear,
Saccharine Trust,
Joey Negro,
the Bar-Kays,
Thee Headcoats,
The Moody Blues,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Max Romeo,
Babytalk,
R.M.O.,
Los Fastidios,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.