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 Zimbabwe and from Jakarta.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Intrusion to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Juan Atkins. All the underground hits.
All Stereo Dub tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Morten Harket record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jesper Dahlback record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Whodini,
E-Dancer,
Carl Craig,
Underground Resistance,
Lower 48,
Yazoo,
Pussy Galore,
Minny Pops,
Bill Wells,
The Index,
Don Cherry,
Stiv Bators,
Half Japanese,
Aloha Tigers,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Electric Prunes,
Leonard Cohen,
Camouflage,
Fela Kuti,
Joey Negro,
The Offenders,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Intrusion,
Mantronix,
Ohio Players,
Eli Mardock,
Henry Cow,
The Slits,
Marc Almond,
Audionom,
Patti Smith,
Interpol,
Dead Boys,
New York Dolls,
Jandek,
Stockholm Monsters,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Victims,
The Black Dice,
Can,
the Human League,
Tubeway Army,
Soul Sonic Force,
Swell Maps,
Pantaleimon,
the Normal,
Zapp,
Kenny Larkin,
The New Christs,
The Residents,
The Angels of Light,
The Stooges,
KRS-One,
Hot Snakes,
Heaven 17,
PIL,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
T. Rex,
Bill Near,
Qualms,
Royal Trux,
Fugazi,
Depeche Mode,
Heavy D & The Boyz, Heavy D & The Boyz, Heavy D & The Boyz, Heavy D & The Boyz.
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.