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 Nauru and from Glasgow.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Spokane.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Techniques to the crunk 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 cv313. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wire record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crooked Eye record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Cymande,
Godley & Creme,
Scion,
Flipper,
Ralphi Rosario,
Ronnie Foster,
Donald Byrd,
Jerry's Kids,
Kenny Larkin,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Lalann,
Das Ding,
The Remains,
Tres Demented,
MDC,
Marvin Gaye,
Susan Cadogan,
X-101,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Warsaw,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Stockholm Monsters,
Jeff Mills,
Aswad,
The Real Kids,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Porter Ricks,
Desert Stars,
Jandek,
Fela Kuti,
Trumans Water,
Aural Exciters,
Bluetip,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Mad Mike,
The Litter,
The Mojo Men,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Jeru the Damaja,
Alice Coltrane,
Sugar Minott,
Cybotron,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Nik Kershaw,
Juan Atkins,
The Grass Roots,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Techniques,
Davy DMX,
Gang Starr,
Sound Behaviour,
Accadde A,
Faust,
Goldenarms,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Babytalk,
Eric Dolphy,
Camberwell Now,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Johnny Osbourne,
Shuggie Otis,
The Trojans, The Trojans, The Trojans, The Trojans.
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.