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 Beijing.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 marimba 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 Con Funk Shun to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Section 25. All the underground hits.
All Alison Limerick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every E-Dancer record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultimate Spinach record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gastr Del Sol,
Slick Rick,
Radio Birdman,
OOIOO,
Freddie Wadling,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Black Pus,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Move,
The Red Krayola,
Scrapy,
James White and The Blacks,
Siglo XX,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Rapeman,
Crispy Ambulance,
Frankie Knuckles,
Tim Buckley,
The Barracudas,
The Knickerbockers,
Bush Tetras,
R.M.O.,
Eve St. Jones,
Malaria!,
The Selecter,
Sound Behaviour,
Junior Murvin,
Cybotron,
Thompson Twins,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Stetsasonic,
The Tremeloes,
The Misunderstood,
The Fuzztones,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Roxette,
The Cramps,
Janne Schatter,
Roy Ayers,
Porter Ricks,
Minutemen,
Patti Smith,
Althea and Donna,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Tropical Tobacco,
Scientists,
Arab on Radar,
Monks,
Niagra,
The Sonics,
the Bar-Kays,
The Young Rascals,
Pierre Henry,
The Moody Blues,
The Toasters,
A Certain Ratio,
The Evens,
Delon & Dalcan,
Alison Limerick,
Boz Scaggs,
Basic Channel,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe.
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.