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 Monaco and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 snare 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 Nik Kershaw to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Mr. Review. All the underground hits.
All The Martian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pylon 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oblivians,
The Fire Engines,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Barrington Levy,
Banda Bassotti,
Fifty Foot Hose,
A Certain Ratio,
Warsaw,
Vladislav Delay,
Bang On A Can,
FM Einheit,
Moss Icon,
Q65,
CMW,
Dennis Brown,
The Walker Brothers,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Roxette,
The Sonics,
Sister Nancy,
Suicide,
Carl Craig,
The Standells,
Juan Atkins,
Second Layer,
Brothers Johnson,
Sällskapet,
The Knickerbockers,
These Immortal Souls,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Maurizio,
DJ Style,
Marine Girls,
David Axelrod,
The Litter,
Unrelated Segments,
Au Pairs,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Happenings,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Michelle Simonal,
Goldenarms,
Terry Callier,
Arthur Verocai,
Ossler,
The Flesh Eaters,
Kas Product,
Scrapy,
Byron Stingily,
ABBA,
One Last Wish,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Jacques Brel,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Lungfish,
Kerri Chandler,
Animal Collective,
The Beau Brummels,
Country Teasers,
Crispian St. Peters,
Althea and Donna,
Essential Logic,
Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones.
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.