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 Netherlands and from Bologna.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the rhodes 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 The New Christs to the punk 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 Ash Ra Tempel. All the underground hits.
All Accadde A tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Hill record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hasil Adkins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Echospace,
The Durutti Column,
the Slits,
The Blues Magoos,
Nils Olav,
Chrome,
Interpol,
Ituana,
Blancmange,
Slick Rick,
Magma,
The Evens,
Symarip,
Make Up,
Lungfish,
Newcleus,
Aural Exciters,
Organ,
The Star Department,
Warren Ellis,
OOIOO,
The Gories,
The Cure,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Soul Sonic Force,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Doors,
The Fortunes,
The Human League,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Vainqueur,
Funkadelic,
Jeff Mills,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Marine Girls,
Davy DMX,
Bush Tetras,
Byron Stingily,
Intrusion,
Darondo,
Eli Mardock,
The Shadows of Knight,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Pretty Things,
Young Marble Giants,
The Standells,
Toni Rubio,
Public Enemy,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Pole,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Delta 5,
Glenn Branca,
Bobby Byrd,
The Sound,
Sparks,
Dark Day,
kango's stein massive,
Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band.
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.