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 Mexico and from Edmonton.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Funky Four + One to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 U.S. Maple. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slave record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cymande record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-102,
Glenn Branca,
Michelle Simonal,
Marcia Griffiths,
Swans,
Scan 7,
Bobby Byrd,
The Gories,
Donald Byrd,
The Standells,
The Skatalites,
The American Breed,
Rekid,
48th St. Collective,
The Slits,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
DJ Sneak,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Cheater Slicks,
Hashim,
The Motions,
Man Parrish,
Grauzone,
Agitation Free,
The Red Krayola,
Black Pus,
The Detroit Cobras,
Wings,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Harry Pussy,
LL Cool J,
Maleditus Sound,
Kerrie Biddell,
New York Dolls,
Grey Daturas,
Kerri Chandler,
Nick Fraelich,
Outsiders,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Throbbing Gristle,
Easy Going,
The Mummies,
Colin Newman,
Minutemen,
X-Ray Spex,
Andrew Hill,
John Foxx,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bobby Womack,
Marmalade,
Mantronix,
CMW,
La Düsseldorf,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Black Bananas,
Circle Jerks,
Janne Schatter,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents.
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.