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 Mongolia and from London.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Lou Reed 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 Marine Girls 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 Soft Machine. All the underground hits.
All Cecil Taylor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tommy Roe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Japan,
The Golliwogs,
The Fortunes,
Scott Walker,
Gil Scott Heron,
Curtis Mayfield,
Idris Muhammad,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Fire Engines,
Patti Smith,
Ludus,
Sparks,
Rites of Spring,
Joy Division,
Essential Logic,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Aswad,
Lyres,
Newcleus,
Sister Nancy,
Absolute Body Control,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Durutti Column,
Harry Pussy,
Kool Moe Dee,
John Foxx,
The Dirtbombs,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Junior Murvin,
the Normal,
Porter Ricks,
Lalo Schifrin,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Dead C,
These Immortal Souls,
Davy DMX,
Circle Jerks,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Lee Hazlewood,
Jerry's Kids,
Scrapy,
Pagans,
The Cure,
Dave Gahan,
Ultravox,
Underground Resistance,
Brick,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Qualms,
Laurel Aitken,
48th St. Collective,
Mr. Review,
Amon Düül II,
The Star Department,
Eddi Front,
Gerry Rafferty,
Boz Scaggs,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
La Düsseldorf,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.