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 Armenia and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 linndrum 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 Lakeside to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All Grauzone tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deadbeat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tom Boy,
Colin Newman,
Darondo,
Cameo,
Camberwell Now,
Icehouse,
Gerry Rafferty,
Kerrie Biddell,
Carl Craig,
Vladislav Delay,
Bad Manners,
Eddi Front,
Funkadelic,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Andrew Hill,
Sarah Menescal,
kango's stein massive,
Cymande,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Fugs,
Lindisfarne,
The Electric Prunes,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Kayak,
Duran Duran,
The Selecter,
Moss Icon,
John Coltrane,
Rakim,
Max Romeo,
Dave Gahan,
Quadrant,
Steve Hackett,
The Tremeloes,
Japan,
La Düsseldorf,
Fort Wilson Riot,
In Retrospect,
The Victims,
Fugazi,
Youth Brigade,
Chrome,
Second Layer,
PIL,
48th St. Collective,
New York Dolls,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Hardrive,
David Bowie,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Grass Roots,
Dorothy Ashby,
Eve St. Jones,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Man Eating Sloth,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Los Fastidios,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Tubeway Army,
The Cure, The Cure, The Cure, The Cure.
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.