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 Peru and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Scientists to the electroclash 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 Vaughan Mason & Crew. All the underground hits.
All Erasure tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sam Rivers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sisters of Mercy,
Agent Orange,
Mandrill,
Roxette,
Harry Pussy,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Yaz,
Con Funk Shun,
Camouflage,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Walker Brothers,
Rufus Thomas,
Warren Ellis,
Marmalade,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Thompson Twins,
Deadbeat,
Panda Bear,
Sound Behaviour,
The Tremeloes,
The Selecter,
The Cramps,
Dennis Brown,
Nik Kershaw,
Desert Stars,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Slackers,
Half Japanese,
the Normal,
Mr. Review,
Bill Wells,
U.S. Maple,
Big Daddy Kane,
Talk Talk,
K-Klass,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Frankie Knuckles,
Alice Coltrane,
The Dirtbombs,
Bill Near,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Surgeon,
Jacob Miller,
Eric B and Rakim,
Toni Rubio,
Wire,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Swell Maps,
Harmonia,
Patti Smith,
the Association,
Q and Not U,
The Pretty Things,
the Germs,
Angry Samoans,
The Young Rascals,
The Monochrome Set,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Interpol,
the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays.
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.