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 Montenegro and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Scott Walker to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 & Cosey. All the underground hits.
All Peter & Gordon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grey Daturas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultimate Spinach,
Duran Duran,
The Young Rascals,
Derrick May,
Skriet,
Darondo,
The Index,
Tim Buckley,
The Fortunes,
Nik Kershaw,
Visage,
Patti Smith,
Lungfish,
Moss Icon,
The Birthday Party,
Boredoms,
Radio Birdman,
The Kinks,
Glenn Branca,
Excepter,
Joe Smooth,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Lebanon Hanover,
Metal Thangz,
Aaron Thompson,
The Human League,
EPMD,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Public Image Ltd.,
Black Bananas,
The Vogues,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Grauzone,
Jerry Gold Smith,
JFA,
Kerrie Biddell,
Slave,
Unwound,
the Association,
The Detroit Cobras,
Lakeside,
Connie Case,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Procol Harum,
Scrapy,
Fluxion,
Joensuu 1685,
Kerri Chandler,
Minor Threat,
Bad Manners,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Magazine,
X-Ray Spex,
Eric Copeland,
Byron Stingily,
Tommy Roe,
Model 500,
Todd Rundgren,
The Dead C,
Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars.
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.