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 Slovakia and from Edmonton.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 David McCallum 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 FM Einheit. All the underground hits.
All H. Thieme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Qualms 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a R.M.O. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mission of Burma,
The Sonics,
Ultravox,
Dark Day,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Kayak,
Dawn Penn,
Blake Baxter,
Interpol,
Wire,
Roger Hodgson,
K-Klass,
Joey Negro,
Monks,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Techniques,
Eric Copeland,
Susan Cadogan,
The Dead C,
Traffic Nightmare,
Roxette,
Ronan,
Make Up,
Gang Gang Dance,
Cluster,
Lightning Bolt,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Beau Brummels,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Flash Fearless,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Accadde A,
Gastr Del Sol,
Erasure,
Can,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Schoolly D,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Amon Düül II,
Erykah Badu,
Judy Mowatt,
Franke,
Jeff Mills,
Bauhaus,
Fat Boys,
Toni Rubio,
Warsaw,
Wings,
The Evens,
Dennis Brown,
Pulsallama,
Sex Pistols,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Thompson Twins,
Fort Wilson Riot,
DJ Style,
The Black Dice,
Oneida,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Josef K, Josef K, Josef K, Josef K.
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.