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 Egypt 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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Litter to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Normal. All the underground hits.
All Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Altered Images record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 theremin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Siouxsie and the Banshees record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brothers Johnson,
Sister Nancy,
Suicide,
The Litter,
Blancmange,
Gang of Four,
Anthony Braxton,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Rufus Thomas,
Curtis Mayfield,
Cybotron,
Panda Bear,
Archie Shepp,
Matthew Bourne,
Leonard Cohen,
The Evens,
Zapp,
X-101,
Livin' Joy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Duran Duran,
Babytalk,
Eddi Front,
Y Pants,
The Saints,
CMW,
Kurtis Blow,
Dead Boys,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Rhythm & Sound,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Theoretical Girls,
Scratch Acid,
Danielle Patucci,
Sugar Minott,
Pantytec,
The Zeros,
Letta Mbulu,
Rapeman,
The Cramps,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Severed Heads,
UT,
Angry Samoans,
Royal Trux,
Mad Mike,
Brass Construction,
Intrusion,
Siglo XX,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Yusef Lateef,
Nico,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Con Funk Shun,
Tubeway Army,
The American Breed,
Matthew Halsall,
The Birthday Party,
Janne Schatter,
Beasts of Bourbon,
ABBA,
Das Ding,
The Residents, The Residents, The Residents, The Residents.
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.