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 Sri Lanka and from Cairo.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 These Immortal Souls. All the underground hits.
All John Lydon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magazine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Iggy Pop,
The Star Department,
Scratch Acid,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Half Japanese,
Soft Cell,
Danielle Patucci,
Peter & Gordon,
Matthew Bourne,
Bill Near,
Talk Talk,
Nik Kershaw,
The American Breed,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Last Poets,
A Certain Ratio,
Q65,
Leonard Cohen,
Cameo,
Tropical Tobacco,
Rekid,
Chrome,
The Motions,
Con Funk Shun,
The Move,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Lungfish,
The Zeros,
Kurtis Blow,
Man Eating Sloth,
Flash Fearless,
Khruangbin,
The Techniques,
Deadbeat,
Guru Guru,
James White and The Blacks,
Henry Cow,
Eli Mardock,
The Associates,
Banda Bassotti,
The Velvet Underground,
Shuggie Otis,
Skaos,
Eric Dolphy,
Dave Gahan,
Jeff Mills,
CMW,
The Monks,
The Evens,
Popol Vuh,
Marc Almond,
Unwound,
Accadde A,
Fat Boys,
Fluxion,
The Real Kids,
Subhumans,
The Cure,
Clear Light,
Faraquet,
Wolf Eyes,
Pierre Henry,
Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan.
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.