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 Malawi and from Bologna.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 808 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 The Misunderstood to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Cowsills. All the underground hits.
All Siglo XX tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barclay James Harvest record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nico record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stockholm Monsters,
The Dirtbombs,
The Buckinghams,
The Gun Club,
Mary Jane Girls,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sun City Girls,
Black Pus,
Average White Band,
Trumans Water,
Pulsallama,
Depeche Mode,
Eric Dolphy,
DNA,
Moss Icon,
Wolf Eyes,
Guru Guru,
Easy Going,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Sister Nancy,
Harpers Bizarre,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
X-102,
The Count Five,
Suicide,
Cybotron,
Crime,
The Cure,
These Immortal Souls,
10cc,
The Sonics,
Donny Hathaway,
Can,
Glenn Branca,
Severed Heads,
K-Klass,
Kerrie Biddell,
Ronan,
Mr. Review,
Parry Music,
the Sonics,
John Foxx,
Matthew Bourne,
Tomorrow,
Gang Starr,
JFA,
Au Pairs,
Lee Hazlewood,
ABC,
Soft Machine,
Gastr Del Sol,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Infiniti,
MDC,
Interpol,
The Slits,
Donald Byrd,
U.S. Maple,
Lakeside,
Grauzone,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop.
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.