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 Benin and from Taipei.
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 Spokane and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 oboe 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 Sisters of Mercy to the grunge 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 The Gun Club. All the underground hits.
All Boogie Down Productions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 guitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wolf Eyes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fluxion,
X-Ray Spex,
The Sound,
Kaleidoscope,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Divine Comedy,
Nils Olav,
Terrestrial Tones,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Cure,
Eurythmics,
Scan 7,
10cc,
Sly & The Family Stone,
a-ha,
Khruangbin,
Archie Shepp,
Monolake,
Alice Coltrane,
Babytalk,
Section 25,
Eli Mardock,
Bronski Beat,
Mandrill,
The Mummies,
Rod Modell,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Deepchord,
Agent Orange,
The Star Department,
Accadde A,
Smog,
The Fugs,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Malaria!,
The Neon Judgement,
Roxette,
Piero Umiliani,
Trumans Water,
Shoche,
Todd Terry,
Crooked Eye,
The Litter,
The Motions,
Bluetip,
Nation of Ulysses,
Steve Hackett,
Suicide,
EPMD,
The Golliwogs,
Neu!,
Swell Maps,
Scratch Acid,
Stereo Dub,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Das Ding,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Chris Corsano,
Lou Christie,
Ponytail,
Aswad, Aswad, Aswad, Aswad.
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.