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 Honduras and from Houston.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Tokyo.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish to the funk 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 Crispy Ambulance. All the underground hits.
All Ken Boothe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aswad record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Amon Düül II record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slackers,
Blancmange,
Bang On A Can,
Gabor Szabo,
Dorothy Ashby,
Newcleus,
The Fall,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Trojans,
Oneida,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Unwound,
Morten Harket,
Au Pairs,
La Düsseldorf,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Durutti Column,
The Gun Club,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Quadrant,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Angels of Light,
Can,
Big Daddy Kane,
Wally Richardson,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sonny Sharrock,
Gastr Del Sol,
Pussy Galore,
Aswad,
Black Sheep,
World's Most,
Terry Callier,
Lebanon Hanover,
Sex Pistols,
kango's stein massive,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Rites of Spring,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Gang Starr,
Scientists,
Slick Rick,
The Gladiators,
The Toasters,
Ice-T,
Young Marble Giants,
Ossler,
the Swans,
Soul Sonic Force,
Marmalade,
The Young Rascals,
Little Man,
Dark Day,
X-101,
Pantytec,
Godley & Creme,
Harry Pussy,
Brass Construction,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Archie Shepp,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Pop Group, The Pop Group, The Pop Group, The Pop Group.
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.