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 Sweden and from Bremen.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Tim Buckley to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Raincoats. All the underground hits.
All Buzzcocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Easy Going 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bad Manners,
Vainqueur,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bill Near,
Outsiders,
Royal Trux,
The Invisible,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Pantaleimon,
John Coltrane,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Ronnie Foster,
Yellowson,
Skaos,
Second Layer,
Johnny Clarke,
Bill Wells,
Arcadia,
Janne Schatter,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Barracudas,
Clear Light,
The Residents,
The Music Machine,
Ituana,
the Normal,
Maurizio,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Dual Sessions,
Peter and Kerry,
Surgeon,
Rod Modell,
Aaron Thompson,
Suicide,
Hashim,
The Selecter,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Index,
These Immortal Souls,
10cc,
The Sound,
The Names,
Soft Cell,
Neil Young,
Black Flag,
Slick Rick,
Lou Christie,
Mandrill,
the Slits,
Warsaw,
Bobby Sherman,
Eve St. Jones,
Cheater Slicks,
Smog,
Scratch Acid,
Gabor Szabo,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Blues Magoos,
Chrome, Chrome, Chrome, Chrome.
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.