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 Luxembourg and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Funky Four + One to the disco 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 Altered Images. All the underground hits.
All Nik Kershaw tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ash Ra Tempel 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
The Dirtbombs,
The Divine Comedy,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Idris Muhammad,
New Order,
Lucky Dragons,
Kenny Larkin,
Urselle,
The Leaves,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Selecter,
Index,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Pretty Things,
Mission of Burma,
Davy DMX,
The Durutti Column,
Sam Rivers,
Nico,
The Cure,
Suburban Knight,
Wasted Youth,
Adolescents,
The Knickerbockers,
Sonny Sharrock,
Cybotron,
The Red Krayola,
Gabor Szabo,
The Alarm Clocks,
Das Ding,
Jeff Mills,
Carl Craig,
Glenn Branca,
Monks,
Neu!,
Max Romeo,
Drive Like Jehu,
Parry Music,
Robert Wyatt,
Bill Near,
Quantec,
Ornette Coleman,
Bobby Womack,
Simply Red,
Y Pants,
One Last Wish,
Iggy Pop,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Donny Hathaway,
Rod Modell,
Ken Boothe,
The Names,
Derrick May,
The Last Poets,
Peter and Kerry,
Malaria!,
Intrusion,
Massinfluence,
Public Enemy,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish, Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish, Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish, Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish.
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.