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 St Kitts & Nevis 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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 David Bowie 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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Tim Buckley. All the underground hits.
All Gabor Szabo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Faust 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 Davy DMX record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mo-Dettes,
Scratch Acid,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Deepchord,
Pantytec,
Flamin' Groovies,
Black Pus,
Procol Harum,
Oneida,
Vainqueur,
the Normal,
Ohio Players,
Chris & Cosey,
The Cowsills,
David McCallum,
Gastr Del Sol,
Talk Talk,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Jimmy McGriff,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Wally Richardson,
The Grass Roots,
Andrew Hill,
June of 44,
the Germs,
Faraquet,
Young Marble Giants,
Amazonics,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Scott Walker,
Pagans,
Eurythmics,
Barclay James Harvest,
Moebius,
Arab on Radar,
Urselle,
The Saints,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Cluster,
Swans,
Boogie Down Productions,
Drive Like Jehu,
Minnie Riperton,
Terrestrial Tones,
Arthur Verocai,
Gong,
LL Cool J,
The Evens,
Rosa Yemen,
Spandau Ballet,
The Smiths,
Oblivians,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Slackers,
Skriet,
Carl Craig,
Siglo XX,
Sex Pistols,
Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne.
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.