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 Dominican Republic and from Mexico City.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 Lou Reed 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 Avey Tare to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Mo-Dettes. All the underground hits.
All Kerrie Biddell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Traffic Nightmare record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Neil Young,
Wasted Youth,
Avey Tare,
Banda Bassotti,
Pylon,
D'Angelo,
Negative Approach,
Harry Pussy,
The Birthday Party,
Drive Like Jehu,
Metal Thangz,
T. Rex,
The Durutti Column,
Yaz,
Sound Behaviour,
Donny Hathaway,
Danielle Patucci,
Archie Shepp,
Sällskapet,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Ronan,
Smog,
Minnie Riperton,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Cecil Taylor,
Dawn Penn,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bizarre Inc.,
Mandrill,
Inner City,
Juan Atkins,
Deepchord,
Pierre Henry,
Skriet,
Interpol,
Black Bananas,
Morten Harket,
Letta Mbulu,
JFA,
Rhythm & Sound,
MDC,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ultra Naté,
Bauhaus,
Heaven 17,
Blancmange,
CMW,
Scratch Acid,
Hardrive,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Average White Band,
The Golliwogs,
The Buckinghams,
The Selecter,
Severed Heads,
The Sonics,
John Coltrane,
E-Dancer,
Parry Music,
Deakin,
H. Thieme,
Hashim,
Trumans Water, Trumans Water, Trumans Water, Trumans Water.
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.