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 Korea South and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 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 Gang Green to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 the underground hits.
All Archie Shepp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heaven 17 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 rhodes and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rites of Spring record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Idris Muhammad,
Harpers Bizarre,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Robert Wyatt,
The Saints,
Das Ding,
Todd Rundgren,
Supertramp,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Kas Product,
The Searchers,
EPMD,
Symarip,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Accadde A,
The Count Five,
Harmonia,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Iggy Pop,
Kurtis Blow,
Inner City,
Roger Hodgson,
Absolute Body Control,
Toni Rubio,
Joe Smooth,
Deakin,
Joey Negro,
Heaven 17,
The Five Americans,
Aural Exciters,
Country Teasers,
Reuben Wilson,
Stereo Dub,
Negative Approach,
kango's stein massive,
Mark Hollis,
X-102,
Gang Green,
Dawn Penn,
Eve St. Jones,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Cheater Slicks,
Altered Images,
Brass Construction,
Don Cherry,
Model 500,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Ken Boothe,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Subhumans,
Surgeon,
Derrick May,
John Holt,
Fluxion,
The Wake,
Jerry's Kids,
Bootsy Collins,
Pagans,
John Cale,
Piero Umiliani,
Blake Baxter,
Oneida,
Interpol,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.