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 Haiti and from Portland.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Manchester.
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 marimba 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 Neu! to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All Sugar Minott tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Copeland record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Knickerbockers,
Al Stewart,
This Heat,
The Red Krayola,
Connie Case,
Bronski Beat,
Whodini,
Warren Ellis,
Suicide,
MDC,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Wake,
The Doobie Brothers,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
World's Most,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Brick,
Goldenarms,
The Seeds,
Saccharine Trust,
Neil Young,
Darondo,
ABC,
Nik Kershaw,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Golliwogs,
Rapeman,
Theoretical Girls,
Avey Tare,
Pole,
Popol Vuh,
Donald Byrd,
cv313,
Janne Schatter,
Barry Ungar,
Soul Sonic Force,
Faust,
Make Up,
Lebanon Hanover,
Minny Pops,
Terry Callier,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Nirvana,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Cameo,
Jesper Dahlback,
Susan Cadogan,
Radiohead,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Sugar Minott,
Marmalade,
the Normal,
Country Teasers,
Steve Hackett,
Agent Orange,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Cowsills,
Black Flag,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
R.M.O.,
Liliput,
Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond.
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.