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 Uganda and from Bologna.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 spring reverb 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 Sixth Finger to the techno 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 Harpers Bizarre. All the underground hits.
All Angry Samoans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Trojans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a synthesizer 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 theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Mission of Burma,
The Real Kids,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Silicon Teens,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
MC5,
Excepter,
Arab on Radar,
Marmalade,
Cheater Slicks,
DJ Style,
Lakeside,
The Residents,
John Lydon,
The Dirtbombs,
Liliput,
Soul II Soul,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Seeds,
Marine Girls,
Ultra Naté,
Minnie Riperton,
Depeche Mode,
Aswad,
Nik Kershaw,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Blossom Toes,
The Cowsills,
K-Klass,
James White and The Blacks,
The Detroit Cobras,
Urselle,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bobby Sherman,
The Remains,
Yaz,
Fela Kuti,
Colin Newman,
Bill Wells,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Martian,
Derrick May,
Mark Hollis,
Tres Demented,
The Dead C,
Bluetip,
Jeff Mills,
the Human League,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Sam Rivers,
Barrington Levy,
June Days,
Ultimate Spinach,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Pussy Galore,
Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro.
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.