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 Sudan 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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Lou Reed to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Kevin Saunderson. All the underground hits.
All Metal Thangz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barrington Levy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Urselle,
The Seeds,
Nirvana,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Black Dice,
Newcleus,
The Searchers,
Lou Reed,
U.S. Maple,
Marvin Gaye,
The Fugs,
Index,
John Cale,
Bob Dylan,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Associates,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Alarm Clocks,
Rotary Connection,
The Misunderstood,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ultimate Spinach,
Suicide,
Yellowson,
The Martian,
Wings,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Big Daddy Kane,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Masters at Work,
Metal Thangz,
Y Pants,
Swell Maps,
Soul Sonic Force,
Blancmange,
MDC,
Lou Christie,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Kevin Saunderson,
Panda Bear,
The Grass Roots,
Fugazi,
Sarah Menescal,
The Durutti Column,
X-102,
Eve St. Jones,
The Fortunes,
L. Decosne,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Alphaville,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Toasters,
Graham Central Station,
Organ,
David Bowie,
Public Enemy,
Dawn Penn,
Duran Duran,
the Fania All-Stars,
Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily.
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.