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 Micronesia 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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Flipper to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Pere Ubu. All the underground hits.
All The Dirtbombs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doobie Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a World's Most record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
D'Angelo,
Siglo XX,
Kerrie Biddell,
Ice-T,
Easy Going,
Mark Hollis,
The Last Poets,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sam Rivers,
Barbara Tucker,
Youth Brigade,
Gerry Rafferty,
Excepter,
Warren Ellis,
Arthur Verocai,
Skarface,
Arcadia,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Letta Mbulu,
The Knickerbockers,
Eric B and Rakim,
Vainqueur,
Lungfish,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Birthday Party,
Accadde A,
Harry Pussy,
Marmalade,
Jeff Mills,
The Techniques,
Crispian St. Peters,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Traffic Nightmare,
Pussy Galore,
Mary Jane Girls,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Goldenarms,
Procol Harum,
Adolescents,
Pierre Henry,
Tomorrow,
Curtis Mayfield,
the Human League,
Black Moon,
The Gladiators,
Freddie Wadling,
The Sonics,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Wasted Youth,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Monks,
H. Thieme,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Talk Talk,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Gil Scott Heron,
Pharoah Sanders,
Model 500,
The Alarm Clocks,
John Holt,
Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw.
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.