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 Singapore and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 Halifax and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Porter Ricks to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Magma. All the underground hits.
All T. Rex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Iggy Pop 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mark Hollis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeff Mills,
Ultravox,
Skriet,
Make Up,
The Knickerbockers,
Lalann,
Skaos,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Swell Maps,
Donald Byrd,
Interpol,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Searchers,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Lou Reed,
Electric Prunes,
Agent Orange,
Au Pairs,
Japan,
Newcleus,
Rekid,
Arab on Radar,
June of 44,
Lou Christie,
Gang Green,
Archie Shepp,
Moebius,
Dave Gahan,
Warsaw,
Angry Samoans,
Eli Mardock,
Wally Richardson,
Jimmy McGriff,
Gang Starr,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Con Funk Shun,
Jacques Brel,
Rhythm & Sound,
A Certain Ratio,
Darondo,
The Pretty Things,
Harmonia,
China Crisis,
The Beau Brummels,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
X-102,
Scion,
MDC,
Bobby Womack,
The Angels of Light,
Stiv Bators,
Ronan,
The Selecter,
Khruangbin,
the Slits,
Delta 5,
David McCallum,
Ice-T,
Kool Moe Dee,
Liliput,
Schoolly D,
Soul II Soul,
DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak.
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.