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 Palau and from Madrid.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 theremin 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 The Fire Engines to the punk 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 Chris Corsano. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlbäck tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Divine Comedy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a World's Most record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pantaleimon,
Ten City,
UT,
The United States of America,
Robert Görl,
Soulsonic Force,
Neu!,
Connie Case,
Jeru the Damaja,
China Crisis,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Newcleus,
Quadrant,
Skaos,
The Remains,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Eric Dolphy,
The Skatalites,
8 Eyed Spy,
Crispy Ambulance,
Morten Harket,
Michelle Simonal,
Au Pairs,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Todd Terry,
Rod Modell,
Duran Duran,
The Leaves,
The Fire Engines,
Lalo Schifrin,
World's Most,
Lalann,
New York Dolls,
Liliput,
Jeff Mills,
Andrew Hill,
The Busters,
Black Moon,
Lyres,
Boz Scaggs,
Dual Sessions,
Graham Central Station,
Theoretical Girls,
Banda Bassotti,
Slick Rick,
Trumans Water,
Stiv Bators,
Depeche Mode,
Faust,
Bobby Womack,
Ronan,
Joe Finger,
Harry Pussy,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Slackers,
F. McDonald,
Deakin,
Swell Maps,
Arcadia,
David McCallum,
Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic.
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.