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 Kiribati and from New York.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 EPMD to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Stooges. All the underground hits.
All The American Breed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gregory Isaacs 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Grass Roots record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Accadde A,
The Gap Band,
Siglo XX,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bad Manners,
Technova,
Eric B and Rakim,
Kayak,
Cheater Slicks,
Eve St. Jones,
Cecil Taylor,
Roy Ayers,
Barrington Levy,
Nick Fraelich,
UT,
Rapeman,
Silicon Teens,
Grauzone,
The Durutti Column,
Peter & Gordon,
Theoretical Girls,
Bobby Womack,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Crooked Eye,
Ludus,
Leonard Cohen,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Alton Ellis,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Trojans,
Trumans Water,
Mad Mike,
David Bowie,
Sex Pistols,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
John Coltrane,
Rites of Spring,
Susan Cadogan,
The Offenders,
Ultra Naté,
Max Romeo,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Von Mondo,
Excepter,
Metal Thangz,
Sugar Minott,
Cymande,
The Litter,
Soul II Soul,
Soft Cell,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sexual Harrassment,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Pretty Things,
L. Decosne,
These Immortal Souls,
Slave,
The Cure,
Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants.
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.