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 Sudan and from Bremen.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Bill Wells to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Niagra. All the underground hits.
All Susan Cadogan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Echo & the Bunnymen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Talk Talk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camouflage,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Marmalade,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Organ,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Rakim,
Stockholm Monsters,
Sarah Menescal,
R.M.O.,
Sandy B,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
New Age Steppers,
Cluster,
The Invisible,
Stetsasonic,
Sixth Finger,
Moby Grape,
The Dave Clark Five,
Ohio Players,
Public Image Ltd.,
Stiv Bators,
Skaos,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Carl Craig,
Sonic Youth,
Marc Almond,
The Fortunes,
Anakelly,
Livin' Joy,
The Fire Engines,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Dawn Penn,
Tubeway Army,
Unwound,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Mark Hollis,
Quando Quango,
David McCallum,
Quantec,
The Monochrome Set,
Moss Icon,
The Litter,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Barracudas,
Black Sheep,
Soul Sonic Force,
Charles Mingus,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Busters,
Clear Light,
Ossler,
Rosa Yemen,
Darondo,
H. Thieme,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Erykah Badu,
Jacob Miller,
Stereo Dub,
The Doors,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Urselle,
Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound.
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.