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 South Africa and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the crunk 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 Funky Four + One. All the underground hits.
All Saccharine Trust tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radio Birdman 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minutemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cosmic Jokers,
Eden Ahbez,
Ralphi Rosario,
Newcleus,
Stetsasonic,
Neil Young,
Gang Gang Dance,
Icehouse,
Neu!,
Depeche Mode,
10cc,
Todd Terry,
One Last Wish,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Lou Reed,
Marmalade,
Morten Harket,
Warren Ellis,
Alice Coltrane,
Faraquet,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Index,
Toni Rubio,
Sight & Sound,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Radiopuhelimet,
Bauhaus,
Joe Smooth,
Babytalk,
Andrew Hill,
Qualms,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Jeru the Damaja,
Tres Demented,
The Last Poets,
Letta Mbulu,
The Alarm Clocks,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Kurtis Blow,
Joe Finger,
Sparks,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
OOIOO,
Crime,
The Cure,
E-Dancer,
Duran Duran,
the Soft Cell,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Real Kids,
Public Enemy,
Sonny Sharrock,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sexual Harrassment,
Monolake,
Nas,
Guru Guru,
Ossler,
The American Breed,
Severed Heads,
Susan Cadogan,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.