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 Seychelles and from Houston.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the oboe 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 MC5 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 The Happenings. All the underground hits.
All Anthony Braxton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wally Richardson 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Knickerbockers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Big Daddy Kane,
The Selecter,
Susan Cadogan,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
T. Rex,
Nico,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Stooges,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Residents,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bauhaus,
The Pretty Things,
DJ Style,
Marvin Gaye,
Tomorrow,
The Zeros,
Marcia Griffiths,
Soft Machine,
Mr. Review,
The Monks,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Fela Kuti,
Crash Course in Science,
Anakelly,
Bobby Byrd,
Roxy Music,
Underground Resistance,
Main Source,
Spoonie Gee,
Gong,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Godley & Creme,
Eric B and Rakim,
Easy Going,
Theoretical Girls,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sun City Girls,
The Alarm Clocks,
Y Pants,
Icehouse,
The Busters,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sixth Finger,
Gil Scott Heron,
Tommy Roe,
Connie Case,
Faust,
Mad Mike,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Joy Division,
Qualms,
The American Breed,
Archie Shepp,
Goldenarms,
Joe Smooth,
Au Pairs,
The Sound,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Shadows of Knight,
the Association,
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.