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 Burundi and from Johannesburg.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the theremin 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 Joyce Sims to the punk 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 Dirtbombs. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Seeds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 an oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Iggy Pop,
The Slackers,
Metal Thangz,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Eurythmics,
Lyres,
Rufus Thomas,
Tropical Tobacco,
Ohio Players,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bobby Sherman,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Flesh Eaters,
Infiniti,
Wally Richardson,
Eyeless In Gaza,
ABC,
Wasted Youth,
Shoche,
Slick Rick,
Soft Cell,
Charles Mingus,
Tim Buckley,
Marc Almond,
Minor Threat,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Scrapy,
Thompson Twins,
Skriet,
D'Angelo,
Scion,
The J.B.'s,
Pole,
John Foxx,
the Sonics,
Quando Quango,
Wings,
Black Pus,
Chris Corsano,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Jandek,
Roxy Music,
Zapp,
Crooked Eye,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Negative Approach,
Underground Resistance,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Real Kids,
Barry Ungar,
Qualms,
The Grass Roots,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Harry Pussy,
Marcia Griffiths,
Icehouse,
Flipper,
Gang Starr,
Alice Coltrane,
Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios.
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.