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 Guinea and from Edmonton.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Houston.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 The Moleskins to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Mission of Burma. All the underground hits.
All The Count Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gories,
Tomorrow,
Ice-T,
Talk Talk,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Neon Judgement,
Carl Craig,
Chrome,
David McCallum,
Morten Harket,
Q and Not U,
Aloha Tigers,
Blake Baxter,
The Fugs,
The Motions,
Harpers Bizarre,
Bobby Byrd,
Derrick Morgan,
Terry Callier,
Wire,
Harry Pussy,
the Human League,
June of 44,
Robert Görl,
Derrick May,
Kool Moe Dee,
Agent Orange,
Black Sheep,
Andrew Hill,
the Swans,
New Order,
Bootsy Collins,
The Busters,
Amon Düül II,
Sun City Girls,
Marvin Gaye,
Blancmange,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Rosa Yemen,
The Pop Group,
China Crisis,
Rufus Thomas,
Jacob Miller,
The Slackers,
Youth Brigade,
The Music Machine,
Archie Shepp,
Ronan,
The Martian,
Amon Düül,
Cymande,
Lucky Dragons,
Nirvana,
Frankie Knuckles,
Curtis Mayfield,
Das Ding,
Joyce Sims,
Mad Mike,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Hoover,
Monolake,
Sugar Minott,
Iggy Pop,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.