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 Bhutan and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Matthew Halsall to the jazz 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 The Velvet Underground. All the underground hits.
All R.M.O. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gap Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Buzzcocks,
The American Breed,
Funky Four + One,
Sun City Girls,
Young Marble Giants,
Stiv Bators,
Monks,
The Fall,
8 Eyed Spy,
Babytalk,
Niagra,
The Offenders,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
June Days,
Symarip,
Crooked Eye,
Minny Pops,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Roger Hodgson,
The Selecter,
Skriet,
Soft Machine,
Schoolly D,
The Blues Magoos,
Jesper Dahlback,
Eyeless In Gaza,
H. Thieme,
Ossler,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Royal Trux,
Pierre Henry,
Neil Young,
Newcleus,
Yaz,
Pantytec,
Ultravox,
The Dirtbombs,
Swans,
Prince Buster,
Cymande,
The Doors,
Main Source,
Dave Gahan,
Spoonie Gee,
Pulsallama,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Theoretical Girls,
Kool Moe Dee,
Joey Negro,
Rekid,
The Motions,
Sällskapet,
Crispian St. Peters,
Marvin Gaye,
Man Eating Sloth,
Desert Stars,
The Gories,
Idris Muhammad,
Liliput,
Country Teasers,
E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer.
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.