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 Ghana and from Glasgow.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Gang Gang Dance to the rap 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 H. Thieme. All the underground hits.
All The Shadows of Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camberwell Now record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flipper record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tomorrow,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Pylon,
Khruangbin,
the Germs,
Q and Not U,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Pharoah Sanders,
Aaron Thompson,
X-101,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Von Mondo,
Barclay James Harvest,
Pulsallama,
The Pretty Things,
The Fortunes,
Isaac Hayes,
Pussy Galore,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Monks,
Jawbox,
Byron Stingily,
The Sonics,
Ponytail,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Toasters,
The Tremeloes,
Deepchord,
Reuben Wilson,
Aloha Tigers,
Avey Tare,
L. Decosne,
Grauzone,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Donny Hathaway,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Golliwogs,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Knickerbockers,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Charles Mingus,
Pantytec,
Lindisfarne,
Oblivians,
These Immortal Souls,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Circle Jerks,
The Vogues,
Jacques Brel,
Ronan,
Nik Kershaw,
The Black Dice,
Goldenarms,
Piero Umiliani,
Panda Bear,
Davy DMX,
Ornette Coleman,
Buzzcocks,
the Sonics,
Hardrive,
Glenn Branca,
Zero Boys,
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.