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 Comoros and from Halifax.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 chamberlin 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 PIL to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Roxette. All the underground hits.
All Crash Course in Science tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Remains record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Slick Rick,
Monks,
Nick Fraelich,
Camberwell Now,
Robert Wyatt,
Pierre Henry,
Michelle Simonal,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Cowsills,
Jeff Lynne,
Rekid,
OOIOO,
Bush Tetras,
Lou Christie,
X-Ray Spex,
Main Source,
Godley & Creme,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Human League,
Aural Exciters,
Cybotron,
Half Japanese,
Bobby Sherman,
Fat Boys,
Motorama,
Negative Approach,
Aloha Tigers,
Royal Trux,
Bob Dylan,
The Kinks,
Mo-Dettes,
The Gories,
Skriet,
Dead Boys,
Barbara Tucker,
Marshall Jefferson,
Sam Rivers,
Lower 48,
Peter and Kerry,
PIL,
Black Flag,
the Bar-Kays,
Swans,
Man Eating Sloth,
Funkadelic,
Young Marble Giants,
June Days,
Procol Harum,
The Cramps,
Bizarre Inc.,
Minny Pops,
David Bowie,
Gichy Dan,
Absolute Body Control,
Qualms,
The Sound,
The Trojans,
Susan Cadogan,
Suicide,
Idris Muhammad,
Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle.
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.