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 Barbados and from Glasgow.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the theremin 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 B.T. Express to the rock 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 Warsaw. All the underground hits.
All Lebanon Hanover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donny Hathaway 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 snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Metal Thangz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lakeside,
Tubeway Army,
Arcadia,
Youth Brigade,
Lou Reed,
Nico,
Bang On A Can,
Drexciya,
Stetsasonic,
Zapp,
DJ Sneak,
The Evens,
The Red Krayola,
Hoover,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Parry Music,
Young Marble Giants,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Don Cherry,
Joey Negro,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Brick,
Boogie Down Productions,
New Age Steppers,
The Standells,
The Monochrome Set,
The Star Department,
James White and The Blacks,
The Litter,
The Electric Prunes,
Eric Dolphy,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Icehouse,
The Human League,
The Mummies,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Barbara Tucker,
The Slackers,
Joy Division,
Heaven 17,
Bobby Sherman,
Stiv Bators,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Anakelly,
Technova,
Popol Vuh,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Smiths,
Scan 7,
the Bar-Kays,
Chrome,
Henry Cow,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Blackbyrds,
Max Romeo,
EPMD,
Suicide,
Cal Tjader,
The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy.
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.