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 Morocco and from Paris.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 güiro 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 Avey Tare to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. All the underground hits.
All Eric Dolphy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every UT record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lindisfarne,
LL Cool J,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Colin Newman,
The New Christs,
Agent Orange,
Michelle Simonal,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Rufus Thomas,
Traffic Nightmare,
Jimmy McGriff,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Gabor Szabo,
Toni Rubio,
The Black Dice,
8 Eyed Spy,
Hot Snakes,
Camberwell Now,
The Modern Lovers,
The Walker Brothers,
The Dirtbombs,
Dead Boys,
Hardrive,
The Litter,
Tres Demented,
Bronski Beat,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Happenings,
Alice Coltrane,
The Shadows of Knight,
the Bar-Kays,
Roxy Music,
Ponytail,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Ornette Coleman,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Stetsasonic,
Cameo,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Niagra,
Hoover,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Wasted Youth,
Ludus,
Harry Pussy,
Mandrill,
Sexual Harrassment,
John Cale,
Echospace,
the Normal,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Soul Sonic Force,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Kool Moe Dee,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
T.S.O.L.,
Harmonia,
The Wake,
Cecil Taylor,
Kerrie Biddell,
Sound Behaviour,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks.
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.