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 Fiji and from Glasgow.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Surgeon to the disco 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 Index. All the underground hits.
All Deepchord tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Supertramp 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Richard Hell and the Voidoids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
a-ha,
Drexciya,
June of 44,
Wolf Eyes,
the Swans,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
David McCallum,
EPMD,
Todd Terry,
Heaven 17,
John Lydon,
Rakim,
The Star Department,
Rotary Connection,
Bootsy Collins,
Moby Grape,
The Trojans,
Gang Green,
The Litter,
Accadde A,
Organ,
Chrome,
Jimmy McGriff,
Harmonia,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Marine Girls,
Sister Nancy,
The Real Kids,
Leonard Cohen,
Khruangbin,
Con Funk Shun,
Kerrie Biddell,
Kevin Saunderson,
This Heat,
Underground Resistance,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Names,
Bill Wells,
Whodini,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Andrew Hill,
Cameo,
New York Dolls,
Freddie Wadling,
Deadbeat,
Reuben Wilson,
The Electric Prunes,
Grey Daturas,
Clear Light,
Bad Manners,
Lalo Schifrin,
Echospace,
The Black Dice,
Reagan Youth,
Erasure,
Mark Hollis,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Kerri Chandler,
The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers.
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.