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 Russia and from Beijing.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Lyon.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Swell Maps to the grime 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 The Invisible. All the underground hits.
All Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cluster 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & Metallica record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Al Stewart,
The Alarm Clocks,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Echospace,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
John Holt,
Symarip,
Stetsasonic,
Wasted Youth,
Josef K,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Cymande,
David Axelrod,
Minny Pops,
B.T. Express,
The Count Five,
Bill Wells,
The Real Kids,
The Doors,
The Offenders,
Roxette,
Second Layer,
Vainqueur,
Jeru the Damaja,
Dave Gahan,
Faraquet,
Swell Maps,
The Gap Band,
The Searchers,
Au Pairs,
Tres Demented,
New Age Steppers,
The Pretty Things,
Aural Exciters,
Curtis Mayfield,
Pylon,
Mr. Review,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Velvet Underground,
Althea and Donna,
Scan 7,
the Fania All-Stars,
Camouflage,
Lakeside,
MDC,
Intrusion,
Suicide,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Five Americans,
The Saints,
Idris Muhammad,
Carl Craig,
The Smiths,
Barclay James Harvest,
La Düsseldorf,
Kerrie Biddell,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bluetip,
Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills.
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.