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 Albania and from Sao Paulo.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Maurizio. All the underground hits.
All Joensuu 1685 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reagan Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Malaria!,
Kenny Larkin,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ultravox,
Bang On A Can,
Donny Hathaway,
Colin Newman,
X-Ray Spex,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Ohio Players,
Sun City Girls,
Terry Callier,
Judy Mowatt,
Harpers Bizarre,
Organ,
Spoonie Gee,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Marmalade,
Ralphi Rosario,
the Bar-Kays,
Bill Wells,
Circle Jerks,
Hoover,
Gabor Szabo,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Boredoms,
The Dead C,
Massinfluence,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Robert Wyatt,
Fear,
Vladislav Delay,
Ice-T,
Sex Pistols,
F. McDonald,
Anakelly,
Barrington Levy,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Blackbyrds,
Derrick Morgan,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sonny Sharrock,
Neil Young,
Max Romeo,
Television,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Alice Coltrane,
Magma,
Radiohead,
Bill Near,
Negative Approach,
Desert Stars,
Aaron Thompson,
Zero Boys,
Lungfish,
Bobby Womack,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
PIL,
The Smoke,
Heaven 17,
the Fania All-Stars,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Motorama,
Aswad, Aswad, Aswad, Aswad.
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.