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 Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in 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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 theremin 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 Big Daddy Kane to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Rhythim Is Rhythim. All the underground hits.
All Lindisfarne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every London Community Gospel Choir 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barclay James Harvest,
The Grass Roots,
Stetsasonic,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Carl Craig,
The Divine Comedy,
Moby Grape,
Lalann,
OOIOO,
Adolescents,
The Cramps,
Letta Mbulu,
Thompson Twins,
Ornette Coleman,
Ultra Naté,
Rotary Connection,
Gerry Rafferty,
the Association,
Pylon,
Joe Finger,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Count Five,
Prince Buster,
Nick Fraelich,
Basic Channel,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Gladiators,
Marc Almond,
Saccharine Trust,
Parry Music,
Iggy Pop,
Jacques Brel,
Spandau Ballet,
The Doors,
the Sonics,
Bob Dylan,
Lungfish,
The Martian,
Crash Course in Science,
Big Daddy Kane,
Model 500,
Trumans Water,
Country Teasers,
Average White Band,
The Zeros,
Cheater Slicks,
Rakim,
China Crisis,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Essential Logic,
Johnny Clarke,
Barrington Levy,
Tears for Fears,
The Pretty Things,
The Wake,
Henry Cow,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Jawbox,
Electric Prunes,
Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback.
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.