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 Japan and from Lagos.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Heaven 17 to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Marvin Gaye. All the underground hits.
All Frankie Knuckles tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Drive Like Jehu 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 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?
F. McDonald,
Qualms,
Franke,
Vladislav Delay,
Ponytail,
Connie Case,
The Real Kids,
U.S. Maple,
Loose Ends,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Organ,
New Order,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
LL Cool J,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Joey Negro,
Aaron Thompson,
Minutemen,
Brand Nubian,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Don Cherry,
Section 25,
The Barracudas,
Jawbox,
Essential Logic,
Rosa Yemen,
Pantytec,
Terrestrial Tones,
Eddi Front,
Make Up,
The Gories,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sam Rivers,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Easy Going,
Mission of Burma,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Dual Sessions,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Vainqueur,
Junior Murvin,
The Walker Brothers,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
ABBA,
Zapp,
Kerrie Biddell,
Jimmy McGriff,
Scientists,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
the Swans,
Eric Copeland,
Los Fastidios,
Roxy Music,
Arcadia,
Urselle,
David Bowie,
The Saints,
The Alarm Clocks,
Todd Rundgren,
The Shadows of Knight,
Kerri Chandler,
ABC, ABC, ABC, ABC.
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.