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 Serbia and from Hong Kong.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Hong Kong.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Erykah Badu. All the underground hits.
All Gabor Szabo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kas Product record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Offenders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Icehouse,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Smoke,
Deadbeat,
Grauzone,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Ultravox,
Eric B and Rakim,
T. Rex,
Minny Pops,
Ponytail,
The Vogues,
The Searchers,
The Neon Judgement,
The Misunderstood,
The Slackers,
Camouflage,
Judy Mowatt,
Junior Murvin,
Lalo Schifrin,
Roxette,
Amon Düül,
Jimmy McGriff,
Das Ding,
Niagra,
Goldenarms,
Maurizio,
The Electric Prunes,
K-Klass,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Ultimate Spinach,
Maleditus Sound,
The Tremeloes,
Flamin' Groovies,
Dead Boys,
Oblivians,
Amazonics,
The Durutti Column,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bootsy Collins,
Main Source,
Sound Behaviour,
The Raincoats,
Barclay James Harvest,
Freddie Wadling,
Mandrill,
Buzzcocks,
The Star Department,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Newcleus,
The Kinks,
The Dead C,
Brand Nubian,
Fat Boys,
Throbbing Gristle,
Japan,
The Flesh Eaters,
Moby Grape,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Moleskins,
Joy Division,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Seeds,
Iggy Pop,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers, De La Soul & Jungle Brothers, De La Soul & Jungle Brothers, De La Soul & Jungle Brothers.
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.