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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Portland.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Shadows of Knight to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Los Fastidios. All the underground hits.
All Black Flag tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Associates record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Accadde A 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?
Monks,
Suicide,
Tears for Fears,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Big Daddy Kane,
Barbara Tucker,
Throbbing Gristle,
Procol Harum,
The Golliwogs,
Bluetip,
The Neon Judgement,
8 Eyed Spy,
Swell Maps,
Jeff Mills,
Minny Pops,
Absolute Body Control,
Animal Collective,
The Red Krayola,
Eurythmics,
Scion,
Andrew Hill,
Davy DMX,
The Grass Roots,
Television,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Smog,
Audionom,
T.S.O.L.,
48th St. Collective,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Saccharine Trust,
Second Layer,
Basic Channel,
Sun Ra,
Average White Band,
Liliput,
Don Cherry,
Traffic Nightmare,
Johnny Clarke,
Quantec,
Roger Hodgson,
Hardrive,
Donny Hathaway,
The Vogues,
Robert Görl,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Juan Atkins,
Prince Buster,
Franke,
Angry Samoans,
Rotary Connection,
Arthur Verocai,
Carl Craig,
the Slits,
Amon Düül II,
Ultravox,
Cabaret Voltaire,
the Germs,
Ken Boothe,
The Raincoats,
Bob Dylan,
Chris Corsano,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader.
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.