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 Chad and from Salvador.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Moleskins to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Hoover. All the underground hits.
All Delon & Dalcan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Audionom record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oblivians,
Glenn Branca,
Sarah Menescal,
Qualms,
Connie Case,
James White and The Blacks,
Michelle Simonal,
The Names,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Skatalites,
Peter & Gordon,
Cal Tjader,
The Doors,
Black Pus,
Sun City Girls,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Tropical Tobacco,
Ponytail,
Neil Young,
Mars,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Detroit Cobras,
Maurizio,
Oneida,
Tom Boy,
Delon & Dalcan,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Das Ding,
Roger Hodgson,
Dead Boys,
DJ Sneak,
Sound Behaviour,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Brass Construction,
Bobby Byrd,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Donald Byrd,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Carl Craig,
Flipper,
Bill Wells,
Bill Near,
Rakim,
Mad Mike,
The Moleskins,
Freddie Wadling,
Warsaw,
Blancmange,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Janne Schatter,
Dawn Penn,
Mo-Dettes,
Lalo Schifrin,
a-ha,
Ten City,
Pole,
Drexciya,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Gang Starr,
Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes.
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.