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 New Zealand 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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 harpsichord 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 The Fall to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Evens. All the underground hits.
All ABC tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Procol Harum record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Leaves,
Ultra Naté,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Stetsasonic,
June Days,
Curtis Mayfield,
Nas,
Black Moon,
Surgeon,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Monolake,
Rhythm & Sound,
the Normal,
Severed Heads,
Franke,
The Stooges,
Yusef Lateef,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Don Cherry,
The Alarm Clocks,
Eric Copeland,
Magma,
Symarip,
Lebanon Hanover,
Livin' Joy,
Ludus,
Harpers Bizarre,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Funky Four + One,
The Remains,
In Retrospect,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Dual Sessions,
Jeff Lynne,
Pere Ubu,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Cymande,
The Last Poets,
Jandek,
Dead Boys,
The Cosmic Jokers,
B.T. Express,
Motorama,
Howard Jones,
Neu!,
Nils Olav,
Terrestrial Tones,
Prince Buster,
KRS-One,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
T. Rex,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Crime,
Organ,
Shoche,
Colin Newman,
Ponytail,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Gap Band,
Slave,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
D'Angelo,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.