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 Japan and from Sao Paulo.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and New York.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Tom Boy to the disco 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 Derrick Morgan. All the underground hits.
All Sound Behaviour tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amazonics 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sight & Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Frankie Knuckles,
The Birthday Party,
Lindisfarne,
Maleditus Sound,
The Slits,
Supertramp,
Pagans,
Fad Gadget,
Avey Tare,
Quantec,
Negative Approach,
Mars,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Idris Muhammad,
Pharoah Sanders,
Lalann,
the Normal,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Jacob Miller,
Scott Walker,
The Searchers,
Theoretical Girls,
Scan 7,
The Human League,
The Five Americans,
The Names,
Funky Four + One,
Minutemen,
Terry Callier,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sexual Harrassment,
Procol Harum,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Beau Brummels,
Crash Course in Science,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Saints,
Byron Stingily,
Aloha Tigers,
Masters at Work,
Television,
Visage,
Nick Fraelich,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Bill Wells,
Derrick May,
Fat Boys,
Janne Schatter,
The Standells,
Amon Düül II,
Urselle,
Eli Mardock,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Grey Daturas,
Qualms,
The Dirtbombs,
James White and The Blacks,
Amon Düül,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Q65,
The J.B.'s,
LL Cool J, LL Cool J, LL Cool J, LL Cool J.
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.