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 Romania and from Bologna.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Vladislav Delay 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 The Moody Blues. All the underground hits.
All Soft Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Royal Family And The Poor 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 a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Flag record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
John Coltrane,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Dorothy Ashby,
The J.B.'s,
The Cramps,
Wire,
Faust,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Joey Negro,
Mary Jane Girls,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Crime,
ABC,
Man Parrish,
Fad Gadget,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Colin Newman,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Birthday Party,
Rapeman,
Lucky Dragons,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Litter,
Wolf Eyes,
The Skatalites,
Al Stewart,
Los Fastidios,
Tom Boy,
The Star Department,
The Black Dice,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Terrestrial Tones,
Stiv Bators,
Blake Baxter,
Guru Guru,
Brick,
Model 500,
Danielle Patucci,
Public Image Ltd.,
Vladislav Delay,
the Fania All-Stars,
Rakim,
Robert Görl,
Young Marble Giants,
Motorama,
Howard Jones,
Boredoms,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Sun Ra,
Letta Mbulu,
Suicide,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Sex Pistols,
The American Breed,
Surgeon,
Moss Icon,
Depeche Mode,
Laurel Aitken,
Rotary Connection,
the Human League,
The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light.
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.