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 Finland and from Delhi.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Residents to the funk 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 Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan. All the underground hits.
All FM Einheit tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ajijia Myrayebe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spandau Ballet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultra Naté,
Altered Images,
The Index,
Essential Logic,
Girls At Our Best!,
Lalann,
James Chance & The Contortions,
New Order,
Grey Daturas,
The Fugs,
DNA,
New Age Steppers,
Gil Scott Heron,
This Heat,
The Grass Roots,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Quando Quango,
In Retrospect,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Hoover,
Section 25,
Slave,
The Vogues,
Davy DMX,
Yazoo,
the Sonics,
John Holt,
Yellowson,
Moss Icon,
The Victims,
Warren Ellis,
Colin Newman,
Public Enemy,
Tom Boy,
Blake Baxter,
Stockholm Monsters,
MC5,
Gang Starr,
H. Thieme,
Pantaleimon,
Bad Manners,
MDC,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Cramps,
Peter and Kerry,
The Standells,
Letta Mbulu,
Matthew Bourne,
Marmalade,
Ultimate Spinach,
Johnny Osbourne,
Aaron Thompson,
Gang Gang Dance,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Underground Resistance,
Talk Talk,
The Moleskins,
Wasted Youth,
Average White Band,
Sex Pistols,
Sixth Finger,
Q65,
The Slits, The Slits, The Slits, The Slits.
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.