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 Morocco and from Cairo.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Todd Rundgren to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Heaven 17. All the underground hits.
All Crime tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Sherman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brass Construction,
The Gun Club,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sun City Girls,
Eve St. Jones,
Reuben Wilson,
A Certain Ratio,
DNA,
The Buckinghams,
Tomorrow,
Ludus,
Moss Icon,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Index,
John Cale,
Nation of Ulysses,
Bizarre Inc.,
K-Klass,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Metal Thangz,
Glambeats Corp.,
Rekid,
Bootsy Collins,
Maurizio,
The Doobie Brothers,
Jawbox,
Nils Olav,
Chris Corsano,
Roy Ayers,
Subhumans,
Dark Day,
Ultra Naté,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Robert Görl,
Henry Cow,
MDC,
Siglo XX,
Big Daddy Kane,
Idris Muhammad,
Johnny Clarke,
8 Eyed Spy,
Crime,
48th St. Collective,
the Normal,
Alice Coltrane,
Black Bananas,
The Alarm Clocks,
Tres Demented,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Animal Collective,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Robert Hood,
The Beau Brummels,
Delon & Dalcan,
Rufus Thomas,
Tom Boy,
Derrick Morgan,
Symarip,
Rosa Yemen,
Underground Resistance,
Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes.
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.