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 Syria and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in 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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Crash Course in Science to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Lungfish. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young & Crazy Horse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 48th St. Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Hutcherson,
Stetsasonic,
Fela Kuti,
Bluetip,
JFA,
The Pretty Things,
Gabor Szabo,
Barclay James Harvest,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Slave,
The Moody Blues,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Kaleidoscope,
the Association,
James White and The Blacks,
Wally Richardson,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Reagan Youth,
Sixth Finger,
Fugazi,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Second Layer,
Brick,
The Red Krayola,
Kool Moe Dee,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Infiniti,
The Mojo Men,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Steve Hackett,
The Remains,
The Sound,
Lee Hazlewood,
Marine Girls,
The Velvet Underground,
Black Moon,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
B.T. Express,
Banda Bassotti,
Sun Ra,
Laurel Aitken,
Michelle Simonal,
Shoche,
Thee Headcoats,
Kevin Saunderson,
Mantronix,
Aural Exciters,
John Holt,
Joey Negro,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Aloha Tigers,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Monks,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Slackers,
Jimmy McGriff,
Arab on Radar,
The Angels of Light,
Circle Jerks,
Donny Hathaway,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.