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 Norway and from Jakarta.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Tremeloes. All the underground hits.
All The Star Department tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slackers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Make Up record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pantaleimon,
Clear Light,
Jeff Mills,
Amazonics,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Livin' Joy,
Fatback Band,
The Searchers,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Interpol,
Robert Wyatt,
The Blackbyrds,
Lucky Dragons,
Metal Thangz,
Heaven 17,
Kool Moe Dee,
Unrelated Segments,
Roxette,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Doobie Brothers,
This Heat,
Josef K,
The Smoke,
Sex Pistols,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sixth Finger,
Lou Christie,
Negative Approach,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Doors,
Rakim,
Moby Grape,
Iggy Pop,
Kerrie Biddell,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Flamin' Groovies,
Mandrill,
Nirvana,
Throbbing Gristle,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Sam Rivers,
Mark Hollis,
Ohio Players,
Procol Harum,
Whodini,
The Slits,
Skriet,
Curtis Mayfield,
a-ha,
The Residents,
Harry Pussy,
Swell Maps,
The Last Poets,
The Fugs,
Fluxion,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
MC5,
Neu!,
Dennis Brown,
Black Moon,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Oneida, Oneida, Oneida, Oneida.
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.