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 Gabon and from Woodstock.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the oboe 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 Trojans to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Move. All the underground hits.
All Josef K tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kevin Saunderson 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Theoretical Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Pantytec,
Los Fastidios,
E-Dancer,
Adolescents,
Electric Prunes,
Man Parrish,
Kevin Saunderson,
Ludus,
The Tremeloes,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Kaleidoscope,
Ultimate Spinach,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Mr. Review,
The Trojans,
Jacob Miller,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Tres Demented,
Rites of Spring,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Matthew Halsall,
Deadbeat,
Sixth Finger,
Sugar Minott,
Eric Dolphy,
Swans,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Alton Ellis,
Joey Negro,
The Motions,
The Golliwogs,
Erykah Badu,
The Kinks,
The Toasters,
FM Einheit,
KRS-One,
DJ Sneak,
Yaz,
Severed Heads,
In Retrospect,
Dennis Brown,
Interpol,
John Holt,
Khruangbin,
Gang of Four,
X-Ray Spex,
Aural Exciters,
Sam Rivers,
Harry Pussy,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Panda Bear,
Pierre Henry,
Deakin,
The Smoke,
Young Marble Giants,
Cecil Taylor,
The Mummies,
Matthew Bourne,
The Dirtbombs,
Fear, Fear, Fear, Fear.
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.