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 Angola and from Paris.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 808 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 Oblivians to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Ajijia Myrayebe. All the underground hits.
All Unwound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Buckinghams 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Leaves record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Byrd,
Blake Baxter,
Jeff Mills,
Kerrie Biddell,
Sugar Minott,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Oneida,
Grey Daturas,
Jeru the Damaja,
Agitation Free,
B.T. Express,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Essential Logic,
Skriet,
Pulsallama,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Red Krayola,
Swans,
Cybotron,
Motorama,
Whodini,
Bobby Womack,
Silicon Teens,
Drexciya,
The Five Americans,
Henry Cow,
Sandy B,
Sister Nancy,
Crime,
L. Decosne,
DJ Style,
Flipper,
Soulsonic Force,
Pantaleimon,
The Pop Group,
Stockholm Monsters,
Yazoo,
Ultimate Spinach,
Pere Ubu,
Symarip,
The Music Machine,
Delta 5,
Barry Ungar,
Scott Walker,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Eden Ahbez,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Erykah Badu,
Junior Murvin,
Nico,
Wire,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
June Days,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Ludus,
X-101,
Juan Atkins,
Judy Mowatt,
Steve Hackett,
Dual Sessions,
Man Parrish,
Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton.
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.