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 Samoa and from Edmonton.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the 808 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 Metal Thangz to the electroclash 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 Parry Music. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Womack tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harmonia record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Prince Buster,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sandy B,
Jesper Dahlback,
Camberwell Now,
The Beau Brummels,
Cecil Taylor,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Fear,
The Index,
Arcadia,
Theoretical Girls,
Groovy Waters,
The Alarm Clocks,
Alison Limerick,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Kerri Chandler,
Neil Young,
Suicide,
B.T. Express,
Davy DMX,
Charles Mingus,
Throbbing Gristle,
In Retrospect,
Bang On A Can,
Country Teasers,
Scratch Acid,
Popol Vuh,
Janne Schatter,
DJ Sneak,
Moss Icon,
Pagans,
A Certain Ratio,
Faust,
Lower 48,
Todd Rundgren,
Henry Cow,
Pylon,
Excepter,
Second Layer,
Symarip,
Bill Wells,
Flash Fearless,
The Neon Judgement,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
John Coltrane,
John Holt,
Brothers Johnson,
Motorama,
The Raincoats,
The Martian,
Grauzone,
Panda Bear,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Section 25,
The Litter,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Surgeon,
The Cure,
Pere Ubu,
Isaac Hayes, Isaac Hayes, Isaac Hayes, Isaac Hayes.
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.