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 Sierra Leone and from Lyon.
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 Glasgow 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago to the dance 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 Qualms. All the underground hits.
All Gian Franco Pienzio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Technova 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sun Ra Arkestra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Desert Stars,
Second Layer,
The Raincoats,
Leonard Cohen,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Detroit Cobras,
Terry Callier,
The Vogues,
the Soft Cell,
Minor Threat,
Sonic Youth,
Quando Quango,
Von Mondo,
Bill Near,
Don Cherry,
Ultra Naté,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Wake,
Grauzone,
Ossler,
The Doobie Brothers,
Eurythmics,
Los Fastidios,
Absolute Body Control,
Monolake,
Quadrant,
DNA,
Tom Boy,
ABC,
Deakin,
Spandau Ballet,
Letta Mbulu,
Malaria!,
Warsaw,
The J.B.'s,
Aaron Thompson,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Hashim,
Cameo,
Joyce Sims,
Negative Approach,
B.T. Express,
The Blues Magoos,
Skaos,
Mr. Review,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Barclay James Harvest,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
48th St. Collective,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Soul Sonic Force,
PIL,
Basic Channel,
Rites of Spring,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Angry Samoans,
Unrelated Segments,
Franke,
John Lydon,
Stetsasonic,
Sparks,
Alton Ellis,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.