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 Gambia 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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
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 Mark Hollis to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All Moss Icon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Josef K 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sun Ra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
Jeru the Damaja,
Basic Channel,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Royal Trux,
Terrestrial Tones,
Aloha Tigers,
Con Funk Shun,
Maleditus Sound,
Crispian St. Peters,
Motorama,
Brick,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bootsy Collins,
Man Eating Sloth,
Matthew Bourne,
Nik Kershaw,
Graham Central Station,
Marine Girls,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Jesper Dahlback,
Technova,
Sight & Sound,
D'Angelo,
The Barracudas,
Marvin Gaye,
Q and Not U,
Kool Moe Dee,
Ronan,
The Blackbyrds,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Divine Comedy,
June of 44,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Curtis Mayfield,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Ohio Players,
Nick Fraelich,
Al Stewart,
Sam Rivers,
The Neon Judgement,
Soft Machine,
Eurythmics,
Jeff Lynne,
Babytalk,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Skatalites,
Junior Murvin,
Subhumans,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Bronski Beat,
Black Moon,
The Dead C,
Ludus,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Fear,
Marmalade,
Dorothy Ashby,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.