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 Gabon and from Manchester.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Rites of Spring to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 H. Thieme. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rosa Yemen 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Louis and Bebe Barron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cecil Taylor,
The Detroit Cobras,
Deakin,
Jimmy McGriff,
Dave Gahan,
Niagra,
Traffic Nightmare,
Blancmange,
Radio Birdman,
Goldenarms,
Unrelated Segments,
Infiniti,
Jacques Brel,
The Red Krayola,
Scrapy,
The Standells,
Hoover,
Pussy Galore,
The Dead C,
the Soft Cell,
Gang Gang Dance,
Rapeman,
Lower 48,
Todd Terry,
Outsiders,
Erykah Badu,
Terry Callier,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Gil Scott Heron,
Inner City,
Motorama,
The Beau Brummels,
Minutemen,
The Modern Lovers,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Bad Manners,
Mars,
Gang Green,
Spoonie Gee,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Camberwell Now,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Sugar Minott,
Peter and Kerry,
Bauhaus,
Hasil Adkins,
Smog,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Can,
Mission of Burma,
Mark Hollis,
Sight & Sound,
Robert Wyatt,
Guru Guru,
Bootsy Collins,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Rotary Connection,
Rod Modell,
Crash Course in Science,
Oneida, Oneida, Oneida, Oneida.
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.