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 El Salvador and from London.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 oboe 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 Sugar Minott to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Siglo XX. All the underground hits.
All Chris & Cosey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Index 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Section 25 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultimate Spinach,
The Doobie Brothers,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Pet Shop Boys,
Scratch Acid,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Move,
Von Mondo,
Minnie Riperton,
Spoonie Gee,
Sex Pistols,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Freddie Wadling,
Sandy B,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Last Poets,
Lebanon Hanover,
Soul II Soul,
Franke,
Moss Icon,
Swans,
Warsaw,
The Dirtbombs,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Invisible,
Tres Demented,
Harmonia,
Skarface,
Mission of Burma,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Arthur Verocai,
Tears for Fears,
The Durutti Column,
Radiohead,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Johnny Osbourne,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Wasted Youth,
Skaos,
Gastr Del Sol,
Don Cherry,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
the Bar-Kays,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Real Kids,
Aural Exciters,
Theoretical Girls,
Cybotron,
R.M.O.,
Q and Not U,
T.S.O.L.,
Morten Harket,
Oblivians,
Tubeway Army,
Y Pants,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bauhaus,
Eden Ahbez,
Niagra,
The Neon Judgement,
Godley & Creme, Godley & Creme, Godley & Creme, Godley & Creme.
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.