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 San Marino and from Winnipeg.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
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 Matthew Bourne 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 Technova. All the underground hits.
All The Kinks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang On A Can record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ken Boothe,
Cal Tjader,
Cameo,
The Doobie Brothers,
Minny Pops,
Mr. Review,
The Sound,
Kenny Larkin,
Bob Dylan,
Quando Quango,
Soul Sonic Force,
Metal Thangz,
Funky Four + One,
The Modern Lovers,
Gregory Isaacs,
Infiniti,
Michelle Simonal,
Ludus,
Minor Threat,
Bush Tetras,
Siglo XX,
Agitation Free,
L. Decosne,
Schoolly D,
World's Most,
This Heat,
Talk Talk,
Marc Almond,
The Busters,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Hot Snakes,
Throbbing Gristle,
Can,
Gong,
Eric Dolphy,
Porter Ricks,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Audionom,
Radiohead,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Prince Buster,
Susan Cadogan,
Oblivians,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Niagra,
Parry Music,
Trumans Water,
The Searchers,
Wings,
The Misunderstood,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Underground Resistance,
Hoover,
Camberwell Now,
Q and Not U,
Das Ding,
Nico,
Lou Christie,
the Swans,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange.
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.