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 Kosovo and from Hong Kong.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Captain Beefheart 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-Ray Spex to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Sex Pistols. All the underground hits.
All Pulsallama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mummies record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sight & Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sällskapet,
Delta 5,
Kerrie Biddell,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Eurythmics,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Aural Exciters,
Archie Shepp,
Shoche,
New York Dolls,
Ultra Naté,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Lower 48,
Amon Düül II,
Section 25,
Hot Snakes,
Davy DMX,
Mark Hollis,
LL Cool J,
The Beau Brummels,
Jeff Lynne,
Chrome,
Whodini,
Crime,
Porter Ricks,
the Normal,
Pet Shop Boys,
Darondo,
Hasil Adkins,
Sex Pistols,
Josef K,
Stiv Bators,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Zeros,
Q and Not U,
Soft Machine,
The Evens,
Main Source,
The Durutti Column,
Crispy Ambulance,
Moby Grape,
Radio Birdman,
K-Klass,
Supertramp,
David Bowie,
Camouflage,
UT,
Cheater Slicks,
Grauzone,
Tropical Tobacco,
Graham Central Station,
Nico,
Glenn Branca,
Bootsy Collins,
Fatback Band,
Faust,
Rekid,
The Sound,
John Holt,
Peter and Kerry,
Popol Vuh,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.