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 Burkina and from Delhi.
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 Copenhagen and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Oneida to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Offenders. All the underground hits.
All Panda Bear tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Babytalk 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Strawberry Alarm Clock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scrapy,
Blossom Toes,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Ornette Coleman,
The Star Department,
Mad Mike,
Los Fastidios,
Lower 48,
Rod Modell,
Underground Resistance,
Joe Smooth,
Max Romeo,
Robert Wyatt,
the Normal,
Scan 7,
John Foxx,
Tomorrow,
Skaos,
Intrusion,
Nils Olav,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Detroit Cobras,
Oblivians,
Basic Channel,
Eddi Front,
Livin' Joy,
Dave Gahan,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Yazoo,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Tres Demented,
Ken Boothe,
Derrick Morgan,
JFA,
The Smoke,
Desert Stars,
The Happenings,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Camouflage,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Sound Behaviour,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Robert Görl,
Duran Duran,
Maleditus Sound,
MC5,
Jacob Miller,
Eric Copeland,
The Selecter,
Gang Gang Dance,
Ohio Players,
Gabor Szabo,
Mark Hollis,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Index,
The Moody Blues,
The Toasters,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Fuzztones,
Urselle,
Amon Düül II,
Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now.
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.