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 Monaco 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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Alison Limerick to the rap 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 John Lydon. All the underground hits.
All Main Source tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Das Ding 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharoah Sanders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sister Nancy,
Nik Kershaw,
Derrick May,
Gil Scott Heron,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Scientists,
Dawn Penn,
The Sound,
Anakelly,
K-Klass,
The Fortunes,
Erasure,
Nils Olav,
Maurizio,
DJ Sneak,
Ponytail,
Black Moon,
Brick,
10cc,
Mantronix,
Masters at Work,
Ornette Coleman,
Amon Düül II,
The Standells,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Doors,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Vogues,
New Order,
The Cramps,
The Monks,
The Names,
Cameo,
The Cosmic Jokers,
This Heat,
Joy Division,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Depeche Mode,
Intrusion,
Mandrill,
Anthony Braxton,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Cybotron,
Kurtis Blow,
Crime,
Camberwell Now,
cv313,
H. Thieme,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
B.T. Express,
Harmonia,
These Immortal Souls,
E-Dancer,
Minny Pops,
The Seeds,
Jeff Lynne,
The J.B.'s,
The Motions,
Warren Ellis,
Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget.
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.