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 Samoa and from Jakarta.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and London.
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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Kango’s Stein Massive to the rap 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 Saccharine Trust. All the underground hits.
All Boogie Down Productions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Hutcherson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Qualms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
Parry Music,
Derrick May,
Monks,
Robert Hood,
Von Mondo,
Stetsasonic,
Bobby Byrd,
Black Moon,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Minny Pops,
Eric Dolphy,
Desert Stars,
Unwound,
JFA,
Jimmy McGriff,
Masters at Work,
Prince Buster,
Radiohead,
Deakin,
X-Ray Spex,
Mantronix,
Accadde A,
Country Teasers,
Ultra Naté,
Isaac Hayes,
Bob Dylan,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Public Image Ltd.,
Marc Almond,
Cal Tjader,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Warren Ellis,
L. Decosne,
Arthur Verocai,
The American Breed,
The Fortunes,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Metal Thangz,
Soft Machine,
Icehouse,
Mars,
Visage,
Blancmange,
June of 44,
Talk Talk,
Grey Daturas,
Bizarre Inc.,
Arab on Radar,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Gladiators,
Trumans Water,
Jacques Brel,
Reagan Youth,
Circle Jerks,
The Pop Group,
Wings,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Amon Düül,
Kurtis Blow,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
the Human League,
The Slits,
The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column.
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.