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 Spokane.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 arpeggiator 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 Tomorrow to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Golliwogs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glenn Branca record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roy Ayers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
Gichy Dan,
Bad Manners,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Animal Collective,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Saccharine Trust,
The Grass Roots,
Outsiders,
Warsaw,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Slits,
Matthew Halsall,
Simply Red,
Model 500,
Interpol,
Althea and Donna,
the Sonics,
The Mojo Men,
U.S. Maple,
Sarah Menescal,
Wolf Eyes,
Derrick Morgan,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
John Coltrane,
Alton Ellis,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Eric Copeland,
Cybotron,
Ludus,
Hasil Adkins,
The Mummies,
Wasted Youth,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Dirtbombs,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Thee Headcoats,
Stetsasonic,
Babytalk,
The Fuzztones,
Chrome,
Q and Not U,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Agent Orange,
Fear,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Buckinghams,
Dawn Penn,
Scrapy,
The Gun Club,
Fela Kuti,
Visage,
The Black Dice,
Goldenarms,
World's Most,
The Standells,
Soft Machine,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Music Machine,
Absolute Body Control,
Flipper, Flipper, Flipper, Flipper.
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.