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 Paraguay and from Shanghai.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Johannesburg.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Flash Fearless to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Metal Thangz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Görl record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thee Headcoats record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Supertramp,
Fat Boys,
Slave,
The Gun Club,
Brick,
Radiohead,
K-Klass,
B.T. Express,
Deepchord,
Faraquet,
The Alarm Clocks,
Prince Buster,
Khruangbin,
Angry Samoans,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Davy DMX,
Joe Finger,
the Sonics,
Delon & Dalcan,
Lakeside,
Alice Coltrane,
The Cure,
Lower 48,
Symarip,
Chris & Cosey,
The Misunderstood,
Bill Wells,
Barry Ungar,
The Sound,
Howard Jones,
X-Ray Spex,
The Neon Judgement,
Gil Scott Heron,
Pantytec,
Intrusion,
Accadde A,
Gang Green,
Trumans Water,
Tubeway Army,
Heaven 17,
The Barracudas,
Robert Wyatt,
Matthew Bourne,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
the Normal,
The Move,
Nas,
Marmalade,
Nico,
Idris Muhammad,
Alton Ellis,
Von Mondo,
Ice-T,
Sixth Finger,
Aloha Tigers,
Ronnie Foster,
John Foxx,
Roy Ayers,
cv313,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Max Romeo,
Qualms,
Reuben Wilson,
The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party.
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.