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 Portugal and from Lagos.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 The Gladiators to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Derrick Morgan. All the underground hits.
All Boredoms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moody Blues record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cheater Slicks,
Outsiders,
Man Eating Sloth,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Easy Going,
Theoretical Girls,
Brand Nubian,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Pantytec,
Simply Red,
Amazonics,
the Soft Cell,
Terrestrial Tones,
the Normal,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Smog,
Gang Starr,
Subhumans,
David Axelrod,
Sonny Sharrock,
Guru Guru,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Rakim,
The Pretty Things,
Warsaw,
Crispian St. Peters,
Scientists,
Tom Boy,
Marcia Griffiths,
Neu!,
Q and Not U,
James White and The Blacks,
Cameo,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
U.S. Maple,
New Age Steppers,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Angels of Light,
Tomorrow,
Dead Boys,
X-Ray Spex,
Joe Finger,
Hot Snakes,
Pierre Henry,
Camberwell Now,
Dark Day,
Tommy Roe,
Electric Prunes,
Swans,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Anakelly,
Peter and Kerry,
The Evens,
The Barracudas,
Sonic Youth,
The Techniques,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Remains,
Black Moon,
Curtis Mayfield,
Audionom,
Gang Green,
The Names, The Names, The Names, The Names.
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.