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 Croatia and from Seoul.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Michael McDonald 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 Japan to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 T.S.O.L.. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brass Construction 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Womack record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Das Ding,
Magma,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Khruangbin,
Eric Copeland,
Vladislav Delay,
Darondo,
Camouflage,
Excepter,
Motorama,
China Crisis,
World's Most,
Angry Samoans,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Robert Görl,
Boredoms,
Sex Pistols,
The Motions,
Delon & Dalcan,
Tears for Fears,
Barbara Tucker,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Litter,
Banda Bassotti,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Index,
Audionom,
Silicon Teens,
The New Christs,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Moleskins,
Infiniti,
Lungfish,
Kenny Larkin,
Siglo XX,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Newcleus,
Lyres,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Ultravox,
Susan Cadogan,
The Detroit Cobras,
Scientists,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
the Germs,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Jawbox,
Yazoo,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Wasted Youth,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bang On A Can,
Tom Boy,
The Monochrome Set,
The Barracudas,
Barrington Levy,
Quadrant,
Suicide,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Sexual Harrassment,
Deepchord,
Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese.
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.