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 Afghanistan and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Marcia Griffiths to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Deadbeat. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Teasers 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grauzone record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Almond,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Modern Lovers,
The Beau Brummels,
Massinfluence,
Rosa Yemen,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Wings,
Skaos,
Country Teasers,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Oneida,
Danielle Patucci,
Bluetip,
Kaleidoscope,
The Dead C,
Metal Thangz,
Sun Ra,
Stockholm Monsters,
Ken Boothe,
X-Ray Spex,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Thompson Twins,
Isaac Hayes,
Eric B and Rakim,
Porter Ricks,
Nik Kershaw,
Davy DMX,
Harmonia,
Black Bananas,
Radiohead,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Man Parrish,
Gang Gang Dance,
Rufus Thomas,
The Tremeloes,
The Flesh Eaters,
Quantec,
Eve St. Jones,
the Fania All-Stars,
Hashim,
Graham Central Station,
Freddie Wadling,
ABBA,
Gregory Isaacs,
Sparks,
Aaron Thompson,
Albert Ayler,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Barbara Tucker,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Fortunes,
The Sound,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Basic Channel,
the Bar-Kays,
Sugar Minott,
The Mummies,
The Move,
Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon.
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.