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 St Lucia and from Tehran.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Junior Murvin. All the underground hits.
All Schoolly D tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Raincoats 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ 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 chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
8 Eyed Spy,
The Smoke,
Black Pus,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Suicide,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Wake,
Infiniti,
Monks,
PIL,
The Stooges,
Soul Sonic Force,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Cal Tjader,
Idris Muhammad,
Joey Negro,
Black Bananas,
The Invisible,
The Real Kids,
Anakelly,
Kerri Chandler,
Faust,
Hoover,
Q65,
The Electric Prunes,
Black Moon,
The Moody Blues,
E-Dancer,
Das Ding,
Saccharine Trust,
Yazoo,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Gories,
Boredoms,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Dawn Penn,
Hardrive,
The Pretty Things,
Ossler,
Mars,
Roxy Music,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Skatalites,
Nils Olav,
The Remains,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Slits,
The Mummies,
The Music Machine,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
La Düsseldorf,
Marmalade,
Delon & Dalcan,
Television,
The Last Poets,
Sex Pistols,
Juan Atkins,
The Durutti Column,
Marcia Griffiths,
Royal Trux,
Accadde A,
Lou Christie,
Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson.
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.