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 Kyrgyzstan and from Beijing.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Malaria! to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Pylon. All the underground hits.
All Alice Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Osbourne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
The Black Dice,
The Toasters,
The Divine Comedy,
Blossom Toes,
Mary Jane Girls,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Dead Boys,
Pussy Galore,
The Index,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Ossler,
Kayak,
The Mummies,
Heaven 17,
China Crisis,
Jerry Gold Smith,
U.S. Maple,
Sex Pistols,
June of 44,
Crash Course in Science,
Bang On A Can,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Dirtbombs,
The J.B.'s,
Simply Red,
Sandy B,
The Slits,
Terrestrial Tones,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Smoke,
Black Moon,
Ronan,
Altered Images,
Cal Tjader,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Negative Approach,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
the Swans,
Dual Sessions,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Audionom,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Porter Ricks,
Newcleus,
Public Enemy,
Nico,
Lightning Bolt,
Shoche,
The Moody Blues,
Quando Quango,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Main Source,
Janne Schatter,
Harpers Bizarre,
Radiohead,
Freddie Wadling,
Rod Modell,
Aaron Thompson, Aaron Thompson, Aaron Thompson, Aaron Thompson.
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.