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 Slovenia and from Stockholm.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Eddi Front 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 The Selecter. All the underground hits.
All Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tom Boy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sister Nancy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Little Man,
The Sound,
JFA,
Mr. Review,
The Alarm Clocks,
OOIOO,
Warren Ellis,
Eric Copeland,
Fat Boys,
Con Funk Shun,
Josef K,
One Last Wish,
Amon Düül,
Curtis Mayfield,
Scion,
PIL,
DNA,
Porter Ricks,
Man Eating Sloth,
Boredoms,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Fluxion,
In Retrospect,
The Index,
The Offenders,
Scan 7,
Marvin Gaye,
The Human League,
Alice Coltrane,
Drive Like Jehu,
Dorothy Ashby,
Idris Muhammad,
Colin Newman,
Kas Product,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Eurythmics,
The Gories,
Mark Hollis,
The Durutti Column,
The Sonics,
Desert Stars,
Moss Icon,
This Heat,
Von Mondo,
Lindisfarne,
Yusef Lateef,
Popol Vuh,
Visage,
The Remains,
Sugar Minott,
New Age Steppers,
Matthew Halsall,
Morten Harket,
The Flesh Eaters,
Eddi Front,
Public Image Ltd.,
Heaven 17,
Negative Approach,
Depeche Mode,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Associates,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Mission of Burma,
Unwound, Unwound, Unwound, Unwound.
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.