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 Kenya and from Mexico City.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 John Lydon to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Harmonia. All the underground hits.
All Morten Harket tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Hill record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Sneak record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magma,
The Fuzztones,
The Tremeloes,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Howard Jones,
Quantec,
Graham Central Station,
UT,
The Cowsills,
Lebanon Hanover,
Deadbeat,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Loose Ends,
Unrelated Segments,
Lyres,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Ultra Naté,
Glenn Branca,
The Trojans,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Surgeon,
Lindisfarne,
Kenny Larkin,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Stooges,
Crispy Ambulance,
Sonny Sharrock,
Todd Rundgren,
John Coltrane,
Arthur Verocai,
Khruangbin,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bill Wells,
Arcadia,
a-ha,
Zapp,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Robert Wyatt,
Judy Mowatt,
Ohio Players,
Man Parrish,
R.M.O.,
Jandek,
Gabor Szabo,
Groovy Waters,
Monolake,
KRS-One,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Oblivians,
Can,
Vladislav Delay,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Alarm Clocks,
Pierre Henry,
Skaos,
Eve St. Jones,
Spandau Ballet,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
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.