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 Vietnam and from Lyon.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Ajijia Myrayebe to the dance 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 Dark Day. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Babytalk 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott Heron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fluxion,
The Cowsills,
MC5,
Intrusion,
Qualms,
Marmalade,
UT,
Ultravox,
Mantronix,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Jacques Brel,
Todd Terry,
John Lydon,
The Gories,
Ash Ra Tempel,
AZ,
Jawbox,
Matthew Bourne,
The Victims,
Theoretical Girls,
Gang Green,
Magma,
Lalo Schifrin,
Angry Samoans,
The Mummies,
Prince Buster,
Hasil Adkins,
Yazoo,
The Kinks,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Loose Ends,
Bootsy Collins,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Absolute Body Control,
Sparks,
Soft Machine,
E-Dancer,
Freddie Wadling,
The Busters,
The Dirtbombs,
Judy Mowatt,
Bobby Byrd,
Dennis Brown,
Robert Hood,
Circle Jerks,
The Monks,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
kango's stein massive,
Visage,
Stetsasonic,
Q65,
Cluster,
The Red Krayola,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Skarface,
Pulsallama,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Public Enemy,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.