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 Turkey and from London.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Stockholm.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Schoolly D to the electroclash 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 Sexual Harrassment. All the underground hits.
All Deadbeat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Drexciya record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cluster,
Organ,
The Pretty Things,
Dennis Brown,
Sexual Harrassment,
Rod Modell,
Hashim,
Rites of Spring,
The Residents,
Gong,
The Neon Judgement,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Gichy Dan,
Supertramp,
Subhumans,
the Slits,
Depeche Mode,
Joe Finger,
Swans,
Man Eating Sloth,
Stiv Bators,
R.M.O.,
Terrestrial Tones,
Patti Smith,
Absolute Body Control,
June of 44,
Big Daddy Kane,
Deadbeat,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Reagan Youth,
Traffic Nightmare,
Yazoo,
Tim Buckley,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Birthday Party,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Minny Pops,
Slick Rick,
Public Image Ltd.,
Section 25,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Ronnie Foster,
Hardrive,
Cal Tjader,
Scan 7,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Smiths,
The Beau Brummels,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Hoover,
Pet Shop Boys,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Liliput,
The Doobie Brothers,
Young Marble Giants,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Kas Product,
The Associates,
Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat.
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.