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 Tajikistan 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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 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 Radio Birdman to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 R.M.O.. All the underground hits.
All The Black Dice tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crooked Eye record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brass Construction 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?
Heavy D & The Boyz,
UT,
Don Cherry,
Whodini,
10cc,
Animal Collective,
The Residents,
Yaz,
Cluster,
Gang Starr,
Black Pus,
Junior Murvin,
Brand Nubian,
The Barracudas,
Bang On A Can,
The Gladiators,
Make Up,
One Last Wish,
Byron Stingily,
Young Marble Giants,
Ornette Coleman,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Yazoo,
The Index,
Pagans,
Scion,
Mission of Burma,
The Modern Lovers,
Deadbeat,
Sandy B,
The Leaves,
Stockholm Monsters,
John Holt,
the Association,
Donald Byrd,
Connie Case,
X-Ray Spex,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Kerri Chandler,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Brothers Johnson,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Nirvana,
Zero Boys,
the Normal,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Peter and Kerry,
Icehouse,
Smog,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bootsy Collins,
Althea and Donna,
Hoover,
Kurtis Blow,
The Fall,
Roxette,
The Evens,
Yusef Lateef,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Pop Group,
Khruangbin,
the Human League,
Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell.
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.