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 Brunei and from Sao Paulo.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare 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 Sex Pistols to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All Piero Umiliani tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter & Gordon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispy Ambulance,
Crime,
Cymande,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Hasil Adkins,
Soulsonic Force,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Connie Case,
Monolake,
Panda Bear,
Moebius,
Wolf Eyes,
Mission of Burma,
Banda Bassotti,
The Golliwogs,
Laurel Aitken,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Intrusion,
Nils Olav,
Max Romeo,
The Pretty Things,
T. Rex,
Absolute Body Control,
The Durutti Column,
R.M.O.,
Unwound,
Eli Mardock,
The Monks,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
the Germs,
Amazonics,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Popol Vuh,
the Fania All-Stars,
the Swans,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Bush Tetras,
Infiniti,
Zero Boys,
Sixth Finger,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Red Krayola,
James White and The Blacks,
Fatback Band,
The Divine Comedy,
The Smoke,
Al Stewart,
The Electric Prunes,
The Blues Magoos,
Ice-T,
Joy Division,
A Certain Ratio,
The Birthday Party,
Adolescents,
Rapeman,
Man Eating Sloth,
the Bar-Kays,
Neu!,
Camouflage,
Robert Görl,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo.
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.