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 Zimbabwe and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 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 Byron Stingily to the techno 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 Cal Tjader. All the underground hits.
All Bush Tetras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Fania All-Stars 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ludus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glambeats Corp.,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Mojo Men,
Tears for Fears,
Jimmy McGriff,
48th St. Collective,
Gang Starr,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Zapp,
Chris Corsano,
Gang of Four,
The Angels of Light,
Mandrill,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
the Swans,
The Cramps,
Derrick Morgan,
Cluster,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Ultimate Spinach,
Juan Atkins,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Litter,
Essential Logic,
Groovy Waters,
Michelle Simonal,
Fugazi,
Big Daddy Kane,
D'Angelo,
Saccharine Trust,
Radio Birdman,
The Kinks,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Dead Boys,
Funky Four + One,
Slave,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Patti Smith,
Kayak,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Wolf Eyes,
The Durutti Column,
The Barracudas,
Pharoah Sanders,
Sonny Sharrock,
Colin Newman,
Jeru the Damaja,
T.S.O.L.,
The Raincoats,
Ronan,
Man Parrish,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Mary Jane Girls,
Tropical Tobacco,
Quantec,
Barbara Tucker,
Drive Like Jehu,
Jerry's Kids,
Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes.
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.