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 Guinea-Bissau and from Salvador.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Andrew Hill to the rap 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 Hot Snakes. All the underground hits.
All Kerrie Biddell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vladislav Delay record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ludus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tom Boy,
Boz Scaggs,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Newcleus,
Derrick Morgan,
Reuben Wilson,
The Smoke,
Traffic Nightmare,
Swans,
Oneida,
The Stooges,
Audionom,
Average White Band,
Basic Channel,
Eli Mardock,
Sister Nancy,
June Days,
Quando Quango,
Jawbox,
Skaos,
Mo-Dettes,
The Music Machine,
Kool Moe Dee,
X-101,
Hoover,
Pharoah Sanders,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Saccharine Trust,
Bobby Byrd,
Lungfish,
Henry Cow,
Organ,
Throbbing Gristle,
Altered Images,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Doobie Brothers,
Avey Tare,
Harmonia,
Pagans,
Infiniti,
Trumans Water,
Davy DMX,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Grey Daturas,
the Normal,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Lalann,
The Fortunes,
Marshall Jefferson,
Quadrant,
Shuggie Otis,
Drive Like Jehu,
Stiv Bators,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Monks,
Spoonie Gee,
Marmalade,
The Five Americans,
Masters at Work,
Scratch Acid,
Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco.
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.