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 Azerbaijan and from Jakarta.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the crunk 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 John Foxx. All the underground hits.
All Aural Exciters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Human League record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Derrick Morgan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masters at Work,
The Gun Club,
Pole,
The Martian,
Faust,
The Last Poets,
MDC,
Animal Collective,
The Move,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Gil Scott Heron,
Fad Gadget,
Stereo Dub,
Girls At Our Best!,
Sexual Harrassment,
Subhumans,
The Seeds,
Piero Umiliani,
Heaven 17,
Robert Görl,
Ken Boothe,
OOIOO,
John Holt,
Gabor Szabo,
Nas,
Jeff Mills,
Black Sheep,
Malaria!,
Boogie Down Productions,
Dead Boys,
Tres Demented,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Hot Snakes,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Monks,
Mars,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Litter,
Amon Düül II,
David Bowie,
Hashim,
Magma,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Slick Rick,
The Trojans,
Rekid,
Fear,
Monolake,
Peter and Kerry,
Prince Buster,
A Flock of Seagulls,
a-ha,
Thompson Twins,
Maleditus Sound,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Ohio Players,
Avey Tare,
Reuben Wilson,
Radiopuhelimet,
cv313,
Flipper,
Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté.
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.