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 Panama and from Tehran.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 chamberlin 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 Bill Wells to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Ultra Naté. All the underground hits.
All Ash Ra Tempel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 an oboe and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sandy B record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tres Demented,
Graham Central Station,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Mad Mike,
Dennis Brown,
Funkadelic,
X-Ray Spex,
Godley & Creme,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Skriet,
Crispian St. Peters,
Chris Corsano,
The Neon Judgement,
Depeche Mode,
Wolf Eyes,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Magma,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Los Fastidios,
The Five Americans,
Swans,
Zapp,
Todd Terry,
Infiniti,
Swell Maps,
Shuggie Otis,
Boogie Down Productions,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Real Kids,
Vainqueur,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Aloha Tigers,
CMW,
Glenn Branca,
Todd Rundgren,
Interpol,
Minnie Riperton,
The Alarm Clocks,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Don Cherry,
The Angels of Light,
Eden Ahbez,
Bronski Beat,
Delta 5,
Laurel Aitken,
The Dead C,
Barrington Levy,
Desert Stars,
Radiohead,
John Foxx,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Shoche,
Gastr Del Sol,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Fire Engines,
Gil Scott Heron,
Hardrive,
The Grass Roots,
Monks,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.