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 Malta and from Delhi.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro 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 A Flock of Seagulls to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Nation of Ulysses. All the underground hits.
All T.S.O.L. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Halsall record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Qualms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Subhumans,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Organ,
Mission of Burma,
June of 44,
Sällskapet,
Angry Samoans,
Lower 48,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Terry Callier,
Matthew Bourne,
H. Thieme,
Sugar Minott,
Severed Heads,
Oneida,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sun Ra,
The Barracudas,
Cybotron,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Modern Lovers,
Scrapy,
Al Stewart,
Bush Tetras,
Derrick May,
Ituana,
Model 500,
Arab on Radar,
Ossler,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Alison Limerick,
Nik Kershaw,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Black Bananas,
The Residents,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Warren Ellis,
Barbara Tucker,
DJ Style,
Rites of Spring,
the Slits,
The Toasters,
Guru Guru,
The Pretty Things,
Marmalade,
Kool Moe Dee,
New Order,
Whodini,
Sandy B,
Pagans,
Technova,
The Durutti Column,
The Slackers,
Lungfish,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Little Man,
Rekid,
This Heat,
Flipper,
Popol Vuh,
Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose.
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.