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 Namibia and from Taipei.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 synthesizer 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 Suicide to the disco 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 Goldenarms. All the underground hits.
All Vainqueur tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Todd Terry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 a guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Sun City Girls,
Lindisfarne,
Sex Pistols,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Prince Buster,
Cluster,
Deakin,
Zero Boys,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Roxy Music,
Funkadelic,
Swell Maps,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Gang Gang Dance,
Livin' Joy,
Suicide,
48th St. Collective,
Nick Fraelich,
Animal Collective,
The Busters,
Essential Logic,
Sister Nancy,
The Dirtbombs,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Walker Brothers,
ABBA,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Soul Sonic Force,
Mantronix,
Nirvana,
Silicon Teens,
Surgeon,
Howard Jones,
Gong,
Vainqueur,
FM Einheit,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Funky Four + One,
The Blues Magoos,
Cal Tjader,
The Last Poets,
E-Dancer,
Byron Stingily,
Jesper Dahlback,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Wake,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Cymande,
Black Pus,
New Age Steppers,
John Coltrane,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Names,
Dark Day,
Ultra Naté,
Colin Newman,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Associates,
Pantytec,
Quadrant,
Sexual Harrassment,
Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel.
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.