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 Ethiopia and from Madrid.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Adolescents to the electroclash 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 Neil Young. All the underground hits.
All Oppenheimer Analysis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
World's Most,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Circle Jerks,
Swans,
Inner City,
KRS-One,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
the Normal,
Eric B and Rakim,
Bobby Byrd,
The Angels of Light,
Laurel Aitken,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Darondo,
Jerry's Kids,
Boz Scaggs,
Gregory Isaacs,
the Slits,
Gang of Four,
MDC,
Groovy Waters,
David Bowie,
Arab on Radar,
The Kinks,
Television,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Dead C,
The Fuzztones,
Wings,
Eli Mardock,
Ken Boothe,
Main Source,
Joey Negro,
The Moody Blues,
Janne Schatter,
The Detroit Cobras,
Pagans,
Faraquet,
These Immortal Souls,
A Flock of Seagulls,
UT,
48th St. Collective,
Glenn Branca,
Lightning Bolt,
Rapeman,
John Holt,
Yaz,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Marcia Griffiths,
Soul II Soul,
Ornette Coleman,
Carl Craig,
Quando Quango,
Skarface,
Wire,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
10cc,
Maurizio,
Sonic Youth,
Ossler,
Drive Like Jehu,
Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay.
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.