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 Nigeria and from Madrid.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Warsaw to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Rod Modell. All the underground hits.
All Malaria! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an oboe and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Aural Exciters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Con Funk Shun,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Sexual Harrassment,
John Cale,
Heaven 17,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Birthday Party,
Minor Threat,
Charles Mingus,
Sixth Finger,
Hardrive,
Sister Nancy,
Alice Coltrane,
Cybotron,
The Walker Brothers,
E-Dancer,
Nirvana,
Freddie Wadling,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Lou Reed,
The Fuzztones,
Ronan,
Man Parrish,
the Sonics,
Tropical Tobacco,
Ice-T,
Skarface,
Colin Newman,
U.S. Maple,
H. Thieme,
Shuggie Otis,
The Trojans,
The Music Machine,
Robert Görl,
Yazoo,
Amazonics,
Darondo,
John Foxx,
The Kinks,
Gichy Dan,
Bobby Womack,
DNA,
Sparks,
The Shadows of Knight,
Scion,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Youth Brigade,
Tears for Fears,
Joe Smooth,
Archie Shepp,
Drexciya,
Ultra Naté,
The Last Poets,
The Moleskins,
Dark Day,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Deakin,
Liliput,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Grey Daturas,
Cluster,
Iggy Pop,
Nas, Nas, Nas, Nas.
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.