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 Nicaragua and from Seoul.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Ornette Coleman to the grunge 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 Sunsets and Hearts. All the underground hits.
All Chris & Cosey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Derrick Morgan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gastr Del Sol,
Nas,
Radiopuhelimet,
Skarface,
The Vogues,
Gregory Isaacs,
U.S. Maple,
Hoover,
Bush Tetras,
Letta Mbulu,
Black Moon,
Deepchord,
Anthony Braxton,
Danielle Patucci,
Siglo XX,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Kinks,
James White and The Blacks,
Arthur Verocai,
Qualms,
The Names,
The Misunderstood,
Albert Ayler,
Bronski Beat,
Das Ding,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Slits,
8 Eyed Spy,
Youth Brigade,
The Blackbyrds,
Judy Mowatt,
Symarip,
Robert Wyatt,
Joyce Sims,
The Gun Club,
Bauhaus,
Main Source,
Boredoms,
John Holt,
Harry Pussy,
Avey Tare,
Au Pairs,
Mo-Dettes,
Minnie Riperton,
the Soft Cell,
Black Sheep,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Pere Ubu,
Rekid,
June Days,
KRS-One,
EPMD,
Rosa Yemen,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Lindisfarne,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
La Düsseldorf,
Moss Icon,
H. Thieme,
Eric B and Rakim,
Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band.
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.