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 Micronesia and from Beijing.
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 New York and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 FM Einheit to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo. All the underground hits.
All Country Teasers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fugs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monks,
Parry Music,
The Tremeloes,
These Immortal Souls,
Sound Behaviour,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Eric B and Rakim,
Man Eating Sloth,
Japan,
The Busters,
The Detroit Cobras,
Oblivians,
Davy DMX,
Girls At Our Best!,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Fuzztones,
E-Dancer,
Amon Düül,
D'Angelo,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Matthew Bourne,
Rufus Thomas,
Masters at Work,
The Fire Engines,
Avey Tare,
L. Decosne,
Man Parrish,
Youth Brigade,
Dawn Penn,
Deadbeat,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Rosa Yemen,
The Young Rascals,
Wings,
Half Japanese,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Blues Magoos,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Invisible,
The Cure,
The Kinks,
Peter and Kerry,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Mad Mike,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Maurizio,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Rites of Spring,
Mission of Burma,
Blancmange,
Black Moon,
Outsiders,
The Alarm Clocks,
Barry Ungar,
Drexciya,
Swans,
Matthew Halsall,
Massinfluence,
Desert Stars,
X-102,
Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A.
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.