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 Norway and from Winnipeg.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Mexico City.
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 arpeggiator 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 Sex Pistols to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Fatback Band. All the underground hits.
All The Smoke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lakeside record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brothers Johnson 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?
Country Teasers,
The Divine Comedy,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
the Slits,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Can,
Jawbox,
Pet Shop Boys,
June of 44,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Human League,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Thompson Twins,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Crispian St. Peters,
Robert Wyatt,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Avey Tare,
Stockholm Monsters,
The New Christs,
Bush Tetras,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Cramps,
The Moleskins,
F. McDonald,
Bobby Womack,
The Real Kids,
Nirvana,
Bob Dylan,
Visage,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Mars,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Brothers Johnson,
Funky Four + One,
The Angels of Light,
Black Flag,
Yusef Lateef,
Malaria!,
Ohio Players,
This Heat,
48th St. Collective,
June Days,
Amon Düül,
Icehouse,
Harry Pussy,
Connie Case,
Sonic Youth,
Skaos,
Con Funk Shun,
MDC,
Danielle Patucci,
Yellowson,
AZ,
Flash Fearless,
Howard Jones,
Terrestrial Tones,
Technova,
One Last Wish,
The Gladiators,
The Pop Group,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.