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 Solomon Islands and from Lyon.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 clarinet 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 X-102 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 Smog. All the underground hits.
All Selector Dub Narcotic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every These Immortal Souls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Buzzcocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arcadia,
Heaven 17,
Quantec,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Monochrome Set,
Nas,
Mantronix,
New Age Steppers,
Royal Trux,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Das Ding,
Suicide,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Martian,
Ten City,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Accadde A,
Eve St. Jones,
Erykah Badu,
Amon Düül II,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Juan Atkins,
Soft Machine,
Alton Ellis,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Swell Maps,
Reagan Youth,
Second Layer,
Icehouse,
The Beau Brummels,
Sparks,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Eddi Front,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Barracudas,
Rod Modell,
Siglo XX,
Jacob Miller,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Absolute Body Control,
Scientists,
Jeff Mills,
Agent Orange,
Vladislav Delay,
Man Eating Sloth,
Desert Stars,
The Sound,
Pulsallama,
Danielle Patucci,
In Retrospect,
Interpol,
The Star Department,
Yazoo,
Ultimate Spinach,
Dorothy Ashby,
Man Parrish,
Porter Ricks,
Bauhaus,
The J.B.'s,
Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras.
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.