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 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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Victims to the disco 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 Black Flag. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Lynne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Interpol record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Banda Bassotti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Q65,
the Germs,
Flamin' Groovies,
Sugar Minott,
The Grass Roots,
The Cure,
Public Enemy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Dorothy Ashby,
kango's stein massive,
Nick Fraelich,
Fugazi,
L. Decosne,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Eric Copeland,
The Slackers,
Robert Görl,
Japan,
Stereo Dub,
Severed Heads,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Black Sheep,
Roxy Music,
Crash Course in Science,
John Lydon,
Ornette Coleman,
Sonic Youth,
The Black Dice,
Model 500,
The Dave Clark Five,
Barclay James Harvest,
New Order,
Letta Mbulu,
James White and The Blacks,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Lindisfarne,
China Crisis,
Jimmy McGriff,
Deadbeat,
Electric Prunes,
Drive Like Jehu,
Tubeway Army,
Sällskapet,
Byron Stingily,
Slick Rick,
Youth Brigade,
the Bar-Kays,
Country Teasers,
Sight & Sound,
Liliput,
Man Parrish,
Spandau Ballet,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Happenings,
Surgeon,
Nils Olav,
The Sonics,
Eddi Front,
Kas Product,
Crime,
Wasted Youth,
Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia.
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.