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 Nepal and from Mexico City.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell to the grunge 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 Crash Course in Science. All the underground hits.
All Index tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moby Grape 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 harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cecil Taylor,
Curtis Mayfield,
Nirvana,
The Wake,
Porter Ricks,
The Zeros,
Alton Ellis,
Index,
Fear,
Carl Craig,
Byron Stingily,
Accadde A,
Radiohead,
Amon Düül,
AZ,
Dead Boys,
the Human League,
Bad Manners,
Davy DMX,
Tropical Tobacco,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Agent Orange,
The Moleskins,
The Blues Magoos,
Prince Buster,
The United States of America,
Bill Near,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Electric Prunes,
UT,
Cymande,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Fugazi,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Maurizio,
Derrick May,
Stereo Dub,
June Days,
Bob Dylan,
Fat Boys,
David Axelrod,
Lalann,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Toni Rubio,
Boogie Down Productions,
New Order,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Infiniti,
The Leaves,
Morten Harket,
Yazoo,
The Golliwogs,
Michelle Simonal,
Grey Daturas,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Angry Samoans,
Pole,
the Slits,
Intrusion,
Ohio Players,
Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox.
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.