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 Netherlands and from Delhi.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Sarah Menescal to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Pierre Henry. All the underground hits.
All Radio Birdman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eden Ahbez 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Theoretical Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pet Shop Boys,
Suburban Knight,
Kerri Chandler,
F. McDonald,
Blossom Toes,
Fad Gadget,
Dorothy Ashby,
Laurel Aitken,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Gang Green,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Roxette,
Fort Wilson Riot,
E-Dancer,
Crispian St. Peters,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Fugs,
The Walker Brothers,
Sight & Sound,
The Divine Comedy,
Y Pants,
The Stooges,
Moebius,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Matthew Halsall,
Echospace,
Lee Hazlewood,
Kool Moe Dee,
Maleditus Sound,
Bush Tetras,
Bizarre Inc.,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Selecter,
Johnny Osbourne,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Arab on Radar,
Bauhaus,
Visage,
Sun Ra,
Cal Tjader,
Monolake,
Rotary Connection,
Bill Near,
Alphaville,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Hot Snakes,
Sister Nancy,
Franke,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Leaves,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sound Behaviour,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Byron Stingily,
Slick Rick,
Index,
The Flesh Eaters,
Cymande,
Ohio Players,
The Smiths,
Funkadelic,
Delon & Dalcan,
DJ Style,
the Slits, the Slits, the Slits, the Slits.
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.