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 Macedonia and from Beijing.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 U.S. Maple to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Gian Franco Pienzio. All the underground hits.
All K-Klass tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythm & Sound 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Starr record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Axelrod,
Roy Ayers,
CMW,
Kenny Larkin,
Television,
Arthur Verocai,
Gabor Szabo,
Fad Gadget,
F. McDonald,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Banda Bassotti,
Grauzone,
Talk Talk,
The American Breed,
Barclay James Harvest,
Black Flag,
E-Dancer,
Gastr Del Sol,
Mandrill,
Nick Fraelich,
Rufus Thomas,
Easy Going,
Con Funk Shun,
John Holt,
The Electric Prunes,
Moss Icon,
David McCallum,
The Five Americans,
Minnie Riperton,
Fela Kuti,
Nik Kershaw,
Sugar Minott,
Sister Nancy,
Main Source,
Wings,
The Gories,
Liliput,
the Normal,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Lou Reed,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Saccharine Trust,
Skriet,
Das Ding,
Black Pus,
The Blues Magoos,
Rosa Yemen,
Maleditus Sound,
Bad Manners,
Dark Day,
Yaz,
The Names,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Wolf Eyes,
Trumans Water,
EPMD,
Chris & Cosey,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Divine Comedy,
Archie Shepp,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.