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 Venezuela and from Winnipeg.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Tehran.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Crispian St. Peters to the grunge 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 Y Pants. All the underground hits.
All the Slits tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barry Ungar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a linndrum 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 chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spoonie Gee,
8 Eyed Spy,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Sonics,
Quantec,
Theoretical Girls,
The Cramps,
Sex Pistols,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Minutemen,
The Toasters,
Icehouse,
Vainqueur,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Yellowson,
Black Moon,
The Velvet Underground,
Niagra,
the Slits,
Albert Ayler,
June of 44,
Lungfish,
Byron Stingily,
The Zeros,
Khruangbin,
the Swans,
CMW,
Jeff Mills,
Peter and Kerry,
The Last Poets,
Black Bananas,
Yaz,
Zapp,
Toni Rubio,
Infiniti,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Mojo Men,
Camberwell Now,
Avey Tare,
Ultimate Spinach,
Roy Ayers,
Flipper,
Swell Maps,
10cc,
The Tremeloes,
Boz Scaggs,
Rod Modell,
Harmonia,
The Fire Engines,
Marine Girls,
The Martian,
Archie Shepp,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Qualms,
a-ha,
MC5,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Television,
Warren Ellis,
Junior Murvin,
The Buckinghams,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Erykah Badu, Erykah Badu, Erykah Badu, Erykah Badu.
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.