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 the UAE and from Shanghai.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 chamberlin 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 F. McDonald to the rap 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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family. All the underground hits.
All Quando Quango tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Birthday Party record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Graham Central Station record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Deadbeat,
the Sonics,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Lebanon Hanover,
Harmonia,
The United States of America,
The Searchers,
Suicide,
X-101,
Ossler,
Sunsets and Hearts,
JFA,
Dual Sessions,
Laurel Aitken,
Gong,
Accadde A,
Sonic Youth,
Loose Ends,
Aloha Tigers,
Alison Limerick,
Joe Smooth,
Gerry Rafferty,
Severed Heads,
The Velvet Underground,
The Cure,
Little Man,
The Barracudas,
Archie Shepp,
The Tremeloes,
the Slits,
Radio Birdman,
Scan 7,
The Fortunes,
Dawn Penn,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The American Breed,
Angry Samoans,
Massinfluence,
the Human League,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Moody Blues,
Surgeon,
Colin Newman,
Model 500,
Ohio Players,
Quantec,
Monolake,
Faraquet,
Man Parrish,
Stereo Dub,
Anthony Braxton,
Camberwell Now,
Joensuu 1685,
Pierre Henry,
Scion,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Pop Group,
Rekid,
The Five Americans,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Fall, The Fall, The Fall, The Fall.
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.