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 Kyrgyzstan and from Houston.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 synthesizer 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 Sisters of Mercy to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Skatalites. All the underground hits.
All B.T. Express tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Infiniti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Archie Shepp record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Raincoats,
DJ Style,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Walker Brothers,
Pere Ubu,
The Fortunes,
The Fire Engines,
H. Thieme,
Accadde A,
Crash Course in Science,
Drexciya,
Youth Brigade,
Avey Tare,
Index,
Neil Young,
Fear,
Bauhaus,
Bill Wells,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Pulsallama,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Monolake,
Arab on Radar,
The Evens,
Urselle,
Eli Mardock,
The American Breed,
Nation of Ulysses,
the Human League,
Kevin Saunderson,
Dark Day,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Kinks,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Eurythmics,
Patti Smith,
Marine Girls,
The Pop Group,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Unwound,
Main Source,
The Pretty Things,
Terrestrial Tones,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Qualms,
Whodini,
T.S.O.L.,
Yazoo,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Freddie Wadling,
The Music Machine,
Heaven 17,
Wire,
Eden Ahbez,
Swell Maps,
R.M.O.,
The Slits,
Kurtis Blow,
Drive Like Jehu,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Rapeman,
Cameo,
The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs.
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.