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 Belgium 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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the marimba 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 Marshall Jefferson to the disco 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 Eric Dolphy. All the underground hits.
All The Peanut Butter Conspiracy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Shuggie Otis,
Bobby Sherman,
U.S. Maple,
Neu!,
Stockholm Monsters,
Big Daddy Kane,
Drexciya,
The Martian,
Joyce Sims,
Robert Görl,
Judy Mowatt,
E-Dancer,
Matthew Halsall,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Lebanon Hanover,
Goldenarms,
Can,
the Sonics,
Jeru the Damaja,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Gladiators,
Bauhaus,
Gong,
Cluster,
Max Romeo,
Lightning Bolt,
Barbara Tucker,
The Walker Brothers,
Byron Stingily,
The Offenders,
Hashim,
Tommy Roe,
Depeche Mode,
Todd Terry,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Cecil Taylor,
Das Ding,
Black Pus,
Buzzcocks,
Lindisfarne,
Susan Cadogan,
Althea and Donna,
In Retrospect,
a-ha,
Flamin' Groovies,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Wake,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Heaven 17,
PIL,
Ohio Players,
Ronan,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Jeff Lynne,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Carl Craig,
Dead Boys,
Theoretical Girls,
Wally Richardson,
the Association, the Association, the Association, the Association.
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.