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 St Lucia and from Cairo.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 chamberlin 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 The Five Americans to the grunge 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 Boogie Down Productions. All the underground hits.
All Ronnie Foster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every KRS-One record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Hutcherson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bauhaus,
Mission of Burma,
Black Flag,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Girls At Our Best!,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Joyce Sims,
Inner City,
Sällskapet,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Residents,
Sex Pistols,
Supertramp,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Godley & Creme,
Cybotron,
Liliput,
Rosa Yemen,
Scan 7,
Stetsasonic,
Black Moon,
Smog,
Letta Mbulu,
Juan Atkins,
Camouflage,
Newcleus,
The Dave Clark Five,
Q and Not U,
Panda Bear,
Reuben Wilson,
the Normal,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
MDC,
Ronnie Foster,
June of 44,
Gichy Dan,
Mars,
MC5,
The Remains,
New York Dolls,
Deepchord,
Electric Prunes,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Cheater Slicks,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Seeds,
Minny Pops,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Sexual Harrassment,
Joy Division,
Hoover,
Sparks,
The Smoke,
Fluxion,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Arthur Verocai,
Unwound,
Grey Daturas,
Second Layer,
Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat.
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.