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 Dominica and from Mexico City.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Bobby Sherman. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlback tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Axelrod record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Buckinghams record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blancmange,
Slave,
Throbbing Gristle,
Babytalk,
Byron Stingily,
Johnny Clarke,
Eve St. Jones,
Kenny Larkin,
Scrapy,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Silicon Teens,
Warsaw,
Sonic Youth,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Don Cherry,
Joey Negro,
Ten City,
Alison Limerick,
Jeff Mills,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
These Immortal Souls,
Groovy Waters,
Camberwell Now,
Public Image Ltd.,
Alton Ellis,
Chris Corsano,
Ituana,
Altered Images,
Jacques Brel,
Basic Channel,
Quantec,
Robert Hood,
Big Daddy Kane,
Panda Bear,
The Vogues,
Index,
Donald Byrd,
Grauzone,
The Gun Club,
Barrington Levy,
Average White Band,
Ken Boothe,
Mr. Review,
Marine Girls,
Youth Brigade,
The Human League,
David Bowie,
Man Eating Sloth,
Black Pus,
Crooked Eye,
Duran Duran,
The Raincoats,
The Dirtbombs,
Nas,
Joe Finger,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Beau Brummels,
Stiv Bators,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bauhaus, Bauhaus, Bauhaus, Bauhaus.
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.