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 Sri Lanka 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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba 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 Frankie Knuckles to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Oppenheimer Analysis. All the underground hits.
All Freddie Wadling tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marmalade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spandau Ballet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Whodini,
Aural Exciters,
The Gladiators,
Thee Headcoats,
Eden Ahbez,
Silicon Teens,
Marc Almond,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Echospace,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Cure,
Audionom,
Popol Vuh,
The Fugs,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Urselle,
Gastr Del Sol,
These Immortal Souls,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Vladislav Delay,
Ten City,
Kurtis Blow,
The Music Machine,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Fuzztones,
The Golliwogs,
Barry Ungar,
cv313,
Quadrant,
Bobbi Humphrey,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Lebanon Hanover,
Gerry Rafferty,
Nick Fraelich,
Man Parrish,
Tim Buckley,
Trumans Water,
Colin Newman,
The Velvet Underground,
Danielle Patucci,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
New York Dolls,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Fad Gadget,
Lou Christie,
Scion,
Bill Wells,
Barclay James Harvest,
Pharoah Sanders,
Groovy Waters,
Roxy Music,
Pere Ubu,
The Move,
Flamin' Groovies,
Jeru the Damaja,
Drive Like Jehu,
James White and The Blacks,
Visage,
Harpers Bizarre,
Cabaret Voltaire, Cabaret Voltaire, Cabaret Voltaire, Cabaret Voltaire.
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.