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 Suriname and from Spokane.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Johannesburg.
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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Roxette. All the underground hits.
All Sister Nancy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minny Pops 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quantec,
Unwound,
Marvin Gaye,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Byron Stingily,
The Evens,
Tropical Tobacco,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
June Days,
The Busters,
Eli Mardock,
Excepter,
Cluster,
Flipper,
Q and Not U,
The Martian,
The Gladiators,
Radiopuhelimet,
Cheater Slicks,
Lungfish,
Public Enemy,
Pere Ubu,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Pantytec,
Black Pus,
Make Up,
Sun City Girls,
Radio Birdman,
Brothers Johnson,
The Toasters,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Accadde A,
Shoche,
Eden Ahbez,
Howard Jones,
the Slits,
Robert Wyatt,
Goldenarms,
Tom Boy,
Joe Smooth,
Soft Cell,
Brass Construction,
Ornette Coleman,
Guru Guru,
Idris Muhammad,
The Star Department,
Negative Approach,
John Holt,
ABBA,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Moleskins,
Cameo,
Archie Shepp,
Arab on Radar,
Cecil Taylor,
New York Dolls,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Todd Terry,
The Victims,
Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy.
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.