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 Morocco and from Glasgow.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 synthesizer 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 Tim Buckley to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 James Chance & The Contortions. All the underground hits.
All Radio Birdman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rahsaan Roland Kirk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blancmange,
the Germs,
Big Daddy Kane,
Quadrant,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Monochrome Set,
Henry Cow,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Warsaw,
Mo-Dettes,
F. McDonald,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Silicon Teens,
Bush Tetras,
Bad Manners,
Bluetip,
Soul II Soul,
Goldenarms,
10cc,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Walker Brothers,
Schoolly D,
Tomorrow,
Animal Collective,
The Martian,
Au Pairs,
The Misunderstood,
Essential Logic,
Royal Trux,
Leonard Cohen,
Roy Ayers,
Archie Shepp,
Susan Cadogan,
the Association,
Junior Murvin,
Ultravox,
Joyce Sims,
Index,
The Associates,
Eli Mardock,
Stereo Dub,
The Raincoats,
Echospace,
Ronan,
Lakeside,
Intrusion,
Black Bananas,
Altered Images,
The Doors,
The J.B.'s,
Moss Icon,
Average White Band,
Wasted Youth,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Doobie Brothers,
Tubeway Army,
Pole,
Talk Talk,
Lungfish,
Technova,
Be Bop Deluxe,
A Certain Ratio,
Swans, Swans, Swans, Swans.
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.