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 Singapore and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Sound Behaviour to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Television Personalities. All the underground hits.
All FM Einheit tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Gang Dance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Hutcherson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grandmaster Flash,
AZ,
Schoolly D,
Nas,
JFA,
Sexual Harrassment,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Index,
T. Rex,
Intrusion,
Babytalk,
Marc Almond,
Audionom,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Sparks,
Rod Modell,
Matthew Halsall,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Max Romeo,
The Birthday Party,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sixth Finger,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Seeds,
The Buckinghams,
Infiniti,
10cc,
Deakin,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Bluetip,
Oblivians,
Marshall Jefferson,
Gang Gang Dance,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Das Ding,
Crispy Ambulance,
The J.B.'s,
Spandau Ballet,
48th St. Collective,
June of 44,
Bob Dylan,
Cymande,
Main Source,
Bobby Womack,
Reuben Wilson,
Darondo,
Terry Callier,
Scratch Acid,
Pere Ubu,
The Fugs,
Fugazi,
The United States of America,
Scott Walker,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Mark Hollis,
Crime,
Underground Resistance,
Accadde A,
Hasil Adkins,
The Searchers,
The Busters,
Andrew Hill,
Derrick Morgan, Derrick Morgan, Derrick Morgan, Derrick Morgan.
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.