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 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 Bremen and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the güiro 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 Crispy Ambulance 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 Hasil Adkins. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Mills tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Curtis Mayfield record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Schoolly D,
The Cowsills,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Walker Brothers,
Sex Pistols,
Duran Duran,
the Normal,
Alice Coltrane,
This Heat,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Moebius,
The Fugs,
The J.B.'s,
Niagra,
Letta Mbulu,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Sonics,
New York Dolls,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Aswad,
Sällskapet,
Underground Resistance,
Buzzcocks,
Kurtis Blow,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Los Fastidios,
Eurythmics,
F. McDonald,
Crash Course in Science,
The New Christs,
Tim Buckley,
Moby Grape,
James White and The Blacks,
Bill Near,
Ultravox,
Boogie Down Productions,
Hot Snakes,
Wally Richardson,
Don Cherry,
X-102,
Kerri Chandler,
E-Dancer,
Brand Nubian,
Marmalade,
Mars,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Remains,
Grandmaster Flash,
Monks,
8 Eyed Spy,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Last Poets,
Thee Headcoats,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Roxette,
Sound Behaviour,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Roger Hodgson,
Jandek,
Rites of Spring,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.