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 Costa Rica and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Boogie Down Productions to the rock 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 Desert Stars. All the underground hits.
All DNA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a This Heat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bush Tetras,
The New Christs,
Pantaleimon,
Tomorrow,
Rekid,
Boredoms,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Monochrome Set,
The Knickerbockers,
Black Pus,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Pere Ubu,
Byron Stingily,
Alison Limerick,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Shadows of Knight,
Quantec,
Mr. Review,
The Leaves,
Surgeon,
Barry Ungar,
Moby Grape,
Janne Schatter,
Scrapy,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The United States of America,
the Human League,
Sparks,
Andrew Hill,
Faraquet,
the Slits,
Bizarre Inc.,
Gerry Rafferty,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Kinks,
John Foxx,
PIL,
Howard Jones,
The Trojans,
Severed Heads,
the Fania All-Stars,
Rites of Spring,
MC5,
Chris & Cosey,
Laurel Aitken,
Letta Mbulu,
E-Dancer,
Funky Four + One,
Black Moon,
Dead Boys,
The Names,
Joey Negro,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Clear Light,
Nik Kershaw,
Jeru the Damaja,
Deepchord,
Ornette Coleman,
Pussy Galore,
the Bar-Kays,
Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt.
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.