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 Mauritius and from Hong Kong.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the oboe 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 Underground Resistance to the grime 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 Camouflage. All the underground hits.
All Terror Squad Feat. Camron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pagans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Carl Craig,
Yellowson,
Half Japanese,
Glambeats Corp.,
Nas,
Idris Muhammad,
World's Most,
The Cure,
Pere Ubu,
Donald Byrd,
Monolake,
The Fortunes,
Patti Smith,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
China Crisis,
Surgeon,
Cheater Slicks,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gabor Szabo,
the Association,
Maurizio,
Technova,
Qualms,
Joe Smooth,
Sex Pistols,
The Leaves,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Hot Snakes,
Masters at Work,
Tomorrow,
Jeff Lynne,
Faust,
Sun Ra,
Traffic Nightmare,
Duran Duran,
John Cale,
Eve St. Jones,
Nick Fraelich,
Bauhaus,
Black Sheep,
The American Breed,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Arcadia,
Danielle Patucci,
T. Rex,
A Certain Ratio,
The Names,
AZ,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Dark Day,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Lakeside,
kango's stein massive,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Audionom,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Junior Murvin,
Yusef Lateef,
David McCallum,
Outsiders,
Crime,
Trumans Water,
Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan.
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.