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 Italy and from Tehran.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Houston.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Misunderstood to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Donny Hathaway. All the underground hits.
All Gang Gang Dance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Hutcherson 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Wake record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronan,
Flash Fearless,
F. McDonald,
Prince Buster,
Arab on Radar,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Camouflage,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Black Pus,
Pylon,
Brothers Johnson,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Andrew Hill,
The Young Rascals,
The Last Poets,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Royal Trux,
Donny Hathaway,
Technova,
Jeru the Damaja,
Jacob Miller,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Aswad,
Von Mondo,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Bobby Byrd,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Ice-T,
Livin' Joy,
The Birthday Party,
Electric Prunes,
Hasil Adkins,
Model 500,
The Mojo Men,
Marine Girls,
Little Man,
Deadbeat,
Mandrill,
Radio Birdman,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Cramps,
Ronnie Foster,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Adolescents,
Bill Wells,
Joyce Sims,
Rod Modell,
The Gun Club,
One Last Wish,
Bob Dylan,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Scion,
Anthony Braxton,
Freddie Wadling,
JFA,
Eden Ahbez,
Black Flag,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Bill Near,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Bluetip,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion.
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.