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 El Salvador and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Popol Vuh to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Heavy D & The Boyz. All the underground hits.
All Scion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Walker Brothers 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a London Community Gospel Choir record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
F. McDonald,
Cecil Taylor,
Adolescents,
Monks,
The Neon Judgement,
Letta Mbulu,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Audionom,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
PIL,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Red Krayola,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
B.T. Express,
Sixth Finger,
Dawn Penn,
Patti Smith,
Warren Ellis,
48th St. Collective,
Moebius,
Magazine,
The New Christs,
Judy Mowatt,
Nik Kershaw,
Scientists,
Television,
The Index,
Hot Snakes,
Eric B and Rakim,
Amazonics,
Jeff Mills,
Theoretical Girls,
The Knickerbockers,
Carl Craig,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Colin Newman,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Camouflage,
Negative Approach,
The Cramps,
Kurtis Blow,
Johnny Clarke,
Deadbeat,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Juan Atkins,
Qualms,
Isaac Hayes,
David Bowie,
Grey Daturas,
The Monochrome Set,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
China Crisis,
New York Dolls,
Dennis Brown,
Rufus Thomas,
Harry Pussy,
Groovy Waters,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Crispian St. Peters,
Bobby Sherman,
Laurel Aitken,
Swans,
Kas Product, Kas Product, Kas Product, Kas Product.
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.