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 Spain and from Bremen.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Charles Mingus to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Clear Light. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Move record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cal Tjader,
Marcia Griffiths,
FM Einheit,
Gabor Szabo,
Tim Buckley,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Black Flag,
Donald Byrd,
The Five Americans,
Roger Hodgson,
James White and The Blacks,
Lightning Bolt,
Nik Kershaw,
Mr. Review,
Roy Ayers,
Unrelated Segments,
John Lydon,
Flamin' Groovies,
Essential Logic,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Public Image Ltd.,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
R.M.O.,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Selecter,
Matthew Halsall,
Agent Orange,
Soulsonic Force,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Country Teasers,
Crime,
Pulsallama,
Bob Dylan,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Mo-Dettes,
Harry Pussy,
Massinfluence,
Man Parrish,
Mark Hollis,
Supertramp,
Letta Mbulu,
Ohio Players,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Tears for Fears,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Organ,
Byron Stingily,
a-ha,
Symarip,
Fad Gadget,
In Retrospect,
Lalann,
Talk Talk,
The Moody Blues,
The Detroit Cobras,
Pierre Henry,
This Heat,
Bill Wells,
Eric Copeland,
Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders.
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.