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 Albania and from Tehran.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and London.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Tubeway Army to the techno 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 Sun Ra. All the underground hits.
All China Crisis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Clear Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fugs,
Infiniti,
The Busters,
Nirvana,
Camouflage,
Magma,
Sällskapet,
Minutemen,
The Fuzztones,
Amon Düül II,
Tears for Fears,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Rites of Spring,
The Motions,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Donny Hathaway,
Idris Muhammad,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Mojo Men,
Ornette Coleman,
Agent Orange,
Buzzcocks,
Derrick May,
Cheater Slicks,
Underground Resistance,
The Doors,
Oblivians,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Radiopuhelimet,
Iggy Pop,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Loose Ends,
Joy Division,
The Remains,
These Immortal Souls,
Anthony Braxton,
The Last Poets,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Rotary Connection,
New York Dolls,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Walker Brothers,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Moleskins,
June Days,
Fort Wilson Riot,
John Foxx,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Aural Exciters,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
John Cale,
Eric Dolphy,
Donald Byrd,
Mantronix,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Thee Headcoats,
Patti Smith,
Hashim,
Deadbeat,
Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners.
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.