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 Guyana and from Shanghai.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Aloha Tigers to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Gong. All the underground hits.
All Morten Harket tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doobie Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Laurel Aitken record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
U.S. Maple,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Judy Mowatt,
Maleditus Sound,
Stiv Bators,
Adolescents,
Avey Tare,
Porter Ricks,
Leonard Cohen,
Pylon,
The Selecter,
Blossom Toes,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Parry Music,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Reuben Wilson,
The Count Five,
Charles Mingus,
B.T. Express,
K-Klass,
Mad Mike,
The Golliwogs,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Seeds,
Excepter,
Masters at Work,
Bobby Womack,
Cal Tjader,
Harry Pussy,
ABC,
The Stooges,
China Crisis,
Tom Boy,
The Slackers,
R.M.O.,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Brothers Johnson,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Ludus,
Joensuu 1685,
The Velvet Underground,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Moby Grape,
Robert Hood,
June of 44,
Youth Brigade,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bad Manners,
Sandy B,
Negative Approach,
David Bowie,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Theoretical Girls,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Gories,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sound Behaviour,
Simply Red, Simply Red, Simply Red, Simply Red.
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.