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 Saudi Arabia and from Mumbai.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and New York.
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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the electroclash 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 Sixth Finger. All the underground hits.
All Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mo-Dettes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tres Demented record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dual Sessions,
The Seeds,
Bobby Hutcherson,
OOIOO,
Carl Craig,
Aloha Tigers,
Slave,
Clear Light,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Golliwogs,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Saints,
Josef K,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Evens,
Jawbox,
the Association,
The Motions,
Arthur Verocai,
Reagan Youth,
Alphaville,
The Trojans,
Schoolly D,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Roy Ayers,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
John Cale,
Prince Buster,
Iggy Pop,
The Sound,
Jimmy McGriff,
Flamin' Groovies,
Essential Logic,
Andrew Hill,
Cymande,
AZ,
Cheater Slicks,
Gang Green,
The Dirtbombs,
F. McDonald,
Mission of Burma,
Davy DMX,
Wasted Youth,
Rites of Spring,
Mars,
Zero Boys,
Wire,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Porter Ricks,
Oneida,
Marcia Griffiths,
Ossler,
Fad Gadget,
Grey Daturas,
Colin Newman,
Echospace,
The Martian,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Fear,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Count Five, The Count Five, The Count Five, The Count Five.
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.