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 Mauritius and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 harpsichord 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 Ralphi Rosario to the crunk 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 Suicide. All the underground hits.
All Marine Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Byron Stingily record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Au Pairs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blancmange,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Cluster,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Pagans,
AZ,
La Düsseldorf,
Arcadia,
Thee Headcoats,
Porter Ricks,
Mandrill,
The Slackers,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Vogues,
Boogie Down Productions,
Drexciya,
Anthony Braxton,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
8 Eyed Spy,
Khruangbin,
Gang Green,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Aswad,
Cecil Taylor,
Judy Mowatt,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Y Pants,
Robert Görl,
Half Japanese,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Skatalites,
Matthew Halsall,
Babytalk,
Eli Mardock,
Suburban Knight,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Negative Approach,
Amazonics,
Josef K,
Danielle Patucci,
DJ Style,
Desert Stars,
Sarah Menescal,
Byron Stingily,
The Martian,
Barbara Tucker,
Index,
Yazoo,
The Names,
The Dead C,
Minutemen,
Von Mondo,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Harpers Bizarre,
Bill Wells,
Howard Jones,
Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance.
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.