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 Costa Rica and from Woodstock.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Milan.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Ornette Coleman to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 the Normal. All the underground hits.
All Sound Behaviour tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Archie Shepp 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Vladislav Delay,
Ronnie Foster,
Average White Band,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Davy DMX,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Motorama,
Swans,
Nils Olav,
Desert Stars,
Soft Cell,
DJ Sneak,
the Fania All-Stars,
Fifty Foot Hose,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Alice Coltrane,
Gang Starr,
Dual Sessions,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Jawbox,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Audionom,
cv313,
Rod Modell,
ABC,
Deadbeat,
DJ Style,
Letta Mbulu,
Glenn Branca,
Nirvana,
Mary Jane Girls,
Robert Hood,
John Foxx,
Sun Ra,
Ken Boothe,
The Neon Judgement,
Reagan Youth,
Sällskapet,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Fuzztones,
Fela Kuti,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Pet Shop Boys,
H. Thieme,
Stockholm Monsters,
Colin Newman,
Bill Near,
Sexual Harrassment,
John Cale,
Girls At Our Best!,
Nation of Ulysses,
Oblivians,
Traffic Nightmare,
Cymande,
The Leaves,
Marshall Jefferson,
Cluster,
Tres Demented,
Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis.
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.