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 Singapore and from Copenhagen.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Tehran.
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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Black Sheep to the funk 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 Whodini. All the underground hits.
All The Searchers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terrestrial Tones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scientists record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Evens,
Sonic Youth,
Altered Images,
Charles Mingus,
The Cramps,
Intrusion,
Rekid,
Tres Demented,
the Soft Cell,
Jacques Brel,
Heaven 17,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Chris Corsano,
The Tremeloes,
Scrapy,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
X-101,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Kurtis Blow,
Marshall Jefferson,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
T. Rex,
Crash Course in Science,
Dennis Brown,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
World's Most,
Eric Dolphy,
Davy DMX,
Lindisfarne,
Joy Division,
The Selecter,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Grauzone,
The Zeros,
Roger Hodgson,
Lucky Dragons,
Jesper Dahlback,
T.S.O.L.,
Andrew Hill,
Joey Negro,
Kerrie Biddell,
Television,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Gladiators,
Avey Tare,
Mary Jane Girls,
Warsaw,
The Sonics,
Big Daddy Kane,
Youth Brigade,
Bang On A Can,
Average White Band,
Man Eating Sloth,
Robert Wyatt,
Flamin' Groovies,
Whodini,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Nick Fraelich,
Monolake,
Essential Logic,
Sexual Harrassment,
Tom Boy,
Unrelated Segments, Unrelated Segments, Unrelated Segments, Unrelated Segments.
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.