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 Samoa and from Milan.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Johnny Osbourne to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Inner City. All the underground hits.
All Minnie Riperton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roger Hodgson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Maurizio,
Los Fastidios,
Porter Ricks,
Skriet,
The Flesh Eaters,
La Düsseldorf,
Roxy Music,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Iggy Pop,
Sight & Sound,
Yaz,
Ronan,
Aaron Thompson,
Black Pus,
Barclay James Harvest,
Kerri Chandler,
The Toasters,
Josef K,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Monolake,
Royal Trux,
Guru Guru,
The Last Poets,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
CMW,
Peter and Kerry,
Carl Craig,
Todd Rundgren,
the Bar-Kays,
Patti Smith,
Zero Boys,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
T. Rex,
Man Eating Sloth,
Harmonia,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Skaos,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Faraquet,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Pussy Galore,
The J.B.'s,
Duran Duran,
Flipper,
Popol Vuh,
Hot Snakes,
Youth Brigade,
Adolescents,
Khruangbin,
Rakim,
The Invisible,
Pylon,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Kas Product,
Aswad,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Bauhaus,
Banda Bassotti,
Steve Hackett,
Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur.
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.