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 Rwanda and from London.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 The Velvet Underground to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Grandmaster Flash. All the underground hits.
All KRS-One tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang of Four record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arthur Verocai record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Buzzcocks,
Parry Music,
Curtis Mayfield,
Grauzone,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Graham Central Station,
Todd Terry,
Fat Boys,
Joey Negro,
Kenny Larkin,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Sällskapet,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Slackers,
Eve St. Jones,
Pole,
Marmalade,
The Saints,
The Sonics,
Nation of Ulysses,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Fatback Band,
These Immortal Souls,
Sexual Harrassment,
Ice-T,
Niagra,
Average White Band,
Accadde A,
Slick Rick,
Guru Guru,
The Detroit Cobras,
Au Pairs,
Groovy Waters,
Procol Harum,
Stetsasonic,
Brothers Johnson,
Urselle,
Los Fastidios,
Anthony Braxton,
This Heat,
Wings,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Harry Pussy,
Adolescents,
Pylon,
Yaz,
Rufus Thomas,
Carl Craig,
Don Cherry,
Toni Rubio,
Soulsonic Force,
Silicon Teens,
The Black Dice,
Audionom,
Frankie Knuckles,
Marine Girls,
June Days,
Franke,
Visage,
The Electric Prunes,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Five Americans,
Soul Sonic Force, Soul Sonic Force, Soul Sonic Force, Soul Sonic Force.
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.