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 Guinea and from Philadelphia.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 snare 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 Bronski Beat to the techno 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 Thompson Twins. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Womack tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Big Daddy Kane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Saccharine Trust record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Cecil Taylor,
Ohio Players,
In Retrospect,
D'Angelo,
Glambeats Corp.,
Robert Wyatt,
Kevin Saunderson,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Vainqueur,
Hardrive,
Y Pants,
New Age Steppers,
Bill Wells,
Fela Kuti,
Lindisfarne,
Soul II Soul,
Scientists,
Sixth Finger,
John Cale,
Boz Scaggs,
Alison Limerick,
The Moody Blues,
Tropical Tobacco,
Simply Red,
8 Eyed Spy,
Mandrill,
Ralphi Rosario,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Suicide,
Deadbeat,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Janne Schatter,
Lebanon Hanover,
Joyce Sims,
Dual Sessions,
Franke,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Infiniti,
Drexciya,
Marc Almond,
Khruangbin,
Henry Cow,
Max Romeo,
CMW,
The Knickerbockers,
JFA,
Fatback Band,
Au Pairs,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Frankie Knuckles,
Banda Bassotti,
Tim Buckley,
a-ha,
EPMD,
Popol Vuh,
Black Moon,
The Trojans,
Joe Smooth,
Skriet, Skriet, Skriet, Skriet.
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.