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 Haiti and from London.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 rhodes 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 Pantytec to the dance 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 Schoolly D. All the underground hits.
All Pere Ubu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yellowson 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David McCallum record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tomorrow,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Silicon Teens,
X-Ray Spex,
Alphaville,
The Cramps,
Symarip,
Schoolly D,
Sonny Sharrock,
Juan Atkins,
Matthew Halsall,
Grey Daturas,
Wolf Eyes,
Scientists,
Babytalk,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Blackbyrds,
Underground Resistance,
T.S.O.L.,
Sixth Finger,
T. Rex,
Roxy Music,
The Index,
Altered Images,
The Selecter,
The Dirtbombs,
The Raincoats,
Mad Mike,
Rekid,
Kayak,
The Fuzztones,
Moss Icon,
Camouflage,
Marvin Gaye,
Harpers Bizarre,
Crispian St. Peters,
Yusef Lateef,
Eric Dolphy,
The Techniques,
The Flesh Eaters,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
This Heat,
Severed Heads,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Stooges,
Ronan,
Siglo XX,
Robert Wyatt,
The Toasters,
Kurtis Blow,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Brick,
Barrington Levy,
Icehouse,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Cybotron,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Rosa Yemen,
Surgeon,
In Retrospect,
Pierre Henry,
The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club.
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.