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 Bahamas and from Portland.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Johnny Clarke to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Monochrome Set. All the underground hits.
All Eric B and Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Idris Muhammad 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 guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scrapy,
The Dave Clark Five,
kango's stein massive,
The Victims,
Suicide,
The Martian,
Hot Snakes,
Reagan Youth,
Wasted Youth,
Carl Craig,
Los Fastidios,
Moebius,
Pulsallama,
Tres Demented,
The Blues Magoos,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Gang Gang Dance,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Joey Negro,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Leonard Cohen,
The Remains,
The Selecter,
The Alarm Clocks,
Chrome,
June of 44,
Y Pants,
Kaleidoscope,
Symarip,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Zeros,
Johnny Clarke,
Amon Düül,
Howard Jones,
Suburban Knight,
Barry Ungar,
Lalann,
Morten Harket,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
One Last Wish,
Marmalade,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Pretty Things,
L. Decosne,
Susan Cadogan,
Blancmange,
Kayak,
Pet Shop Boys,
Model 500,
The Fortunes,
Maurizio,
Donald Byrd,
D'Angelo,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
MDC,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Saints,
Ultimate Spinach,
Simply Red,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Minny Pops,
Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich.
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.