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 Taiwan and from Tehran.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 New Order to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Marshall Jefferson. All the underground hits.
All Cabaret Voltaire tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ralphi Rosario record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hot Snakes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minor Threat,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Stooges,
Quadrant,
Kayak,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Qualms,
Radiopuhelimet,
Panda Bear,
Max Romeo,
Cal Tjader,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Simply Red,
Infiniti,
Slave,
Flipper,
Mo-Dettes,
Anthony Braxton,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Mantronix,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Intrusion,
Terry Callier,
The Pretty Things,
Lightning Bolt,
The Smiths,
New Age Steppers,
Liliput,
Sister Nancy,
Ultra Naté,
Duran Duran,
Arcadia,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sun Ra,
The Offenders,
Severed Heads,
Ralphi Rosario,
Ludus,
Electric Prunes,
Monolake,
The Index,
Henry Cow,
Skarface,
The Wake,
Bob Dylan,
Gichy Dan,
Desert Stars,
KRS-One,
Chrome,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Funky Four + One,
X-Ray Spex,
Donny Hathaway,
The Toasters,
Bobby Womack,
Ronnie Foster,
Quantec,
Unrelated Segments,
Skriet,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army.
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.