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 Ghana and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Halifax.
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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Little Man to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Niagra. All the underground hits.
All Mad Mike tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Skaos record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
Derrick Morgan,
Porter Ricks,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Residents,
Ronnie Foster,
Hashim,
Aural Exciters,
Cybotron,
Ken Boothe,
Bizarre Inc.,
Nation of Ulysses,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Fire Engines,
Nico,
Symarip,
Inner City,
The Raincoats,
Khruangbin,
Crime,
James White and The Blacks,
Half Japanese,
The Leaves,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Animal Collective,
The Associates,
Curtis Mayfield,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sparks,
Barclay James Harvest,
Vainqueur,
The Remains,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Radiopuhelimet,
Talk Talk,
Ludus,
Cymande,
AZ,
Glambeats Corp.,
Outsiders,
Max Romeo,
Bluetip,
Kevin Saunderson,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Desert Stars,
Smog,
Lindisfarne,
The Blackbyrds,
Tres Demented,
Deadbeat,
Robert Hood,
The Selecter,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Barry Ungar,
John Holt,
The Flesh Eaters,
Jeff Mills,
Roy Ayers,
Theoretical Girls,
The Skatalites,
Freddie Wadling,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May.
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.