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 Guyana and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the marimba 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 Nas to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Jesper Dahlback. All the underground hits.
All Monolake tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pulsallama record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Los Fastidios record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Siglo XX,
Rekid,
Buzzcocks,
Moss Icon,
Joyce Sims,
Aaron Thompson,
Monks,
Derrick May,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Dave Gahan,
Rufus Thomas,
The Techniques,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Matthew Bourne,
Swans,
Soft Cell,
Porter Ricks,
Banda Bassotti,
The Doors,
Wally Richardson,
Man Eating Sloth,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Tubeway Army,
Ponytail,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Residents,
CMW,
Byron Stingily,
The Slackers,
Simply Red,
Television Personalities,
Ornette Coleman,
Newcleus,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Robert Hood,
The Five Americans,
FM Einheit,
Shoche,
Schoolly D,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Joe Smooth,
X-102,
Black Sheep,
Max Romeo,
Silicon Teens,
Lakeside,
The Zeros,
The Associates,
Harry Pussy,
Jacques Brel,
Yaz,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Mojo Men,
Bobby Sherman,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Ituana,
Babytalk,
A Certain Ratio,
R.M.O.,
Kas Product,
Bauhaus, Bauhaus, Bauhaus, Bauhaus.
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.