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 Uzbekistan and from Spokane.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Ralphi Rosario to the grime 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 Jacques Brel. All the underground hits.
All Beasts of Bourbon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Junior Murvin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June Days,
New Age Steppers,
Ohio Players,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Panda Bear,
Leonard Cohen,
Make Up,
The Slackers,
Gang Starr,
Rotary Connection,
KRS-One,
Brick,
Amon Düül II,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Stiv Bators,
The Neon Judgement,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Circle Jerks,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Black Dice,
Sun City Girls,
Grauzone,
Nick Fraelich,
Harpers Bizarre,
Technova,
Wings,
Groovy Waters,
The Fortunes,
Khruangbin,
The Last Poets,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Monochrome Set,
Yellowson,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Knickerbockers,
Nico,
Darondo,
Maurizio,
The Names,
The Gories,
Letta Mbulu,
48th St. Collective,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Zeros,
The Doors,
The Busters,
Glenn Branca,
UT,
Brass Construction,
The Durutti Column,
Quadrant,
Gastr Del Sol,
Fluxion,
Los Fastidios,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Bronski Beat,
Smog,
Aaron Thompson,
The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed.
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.