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 Grenada and from Shanghai.
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 Delhi and Taipei.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Juan Atkins to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All Black Pus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roger Hodgson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thee Headcoats record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Barracudas,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Black Pus,
Ronnie Foster,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Connie Case,
China Crisis,
Hashim,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Charles Mingus,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Jimmy McGriff,
Eddi Front,
T.S.O.L.,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Kurtis Blow,
JFA,
Jeff Mills,
ABC,
Nation of Ulysses,
Das Ding,
OOIOO,
Derrick May,
Sun City Girls,
The Golliwogs,
Susan Cadogan,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Zeros,
The Searchers,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Victims,
Moebius,
Dead Boys,
The Fortunes,
Harry Pussy,
Jerry's Kids,
The Monks,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Brothers Johnson,
Hoover,
The Five Americans,
Technova,
Black Bananas,
The Sisters of Mercy,
the Sonics,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Birthday Party,
the Bar-Kays,
Robert Hood,
Ronan,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Rufus Thomas,
LL Cool J,
Monks,
The Velvet Underground,
Moss Icon,
Electric Prunes,
The Fuzztones,
The American Breed,
Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne.
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.