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 Slovakia and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Black Dice to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Johnny Clarke. All the underground hits.
All Severed Heads tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Idris Muhammad 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lonnie Liston Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grey Daturas,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Dennis Brown,
Deadbeat,
Brick,
Anthony Braxton,
The Names,
Big Daddy Kane,
Pierre Henry,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lindisfarne,
Thee Headcoats,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Byron Stingily,
Procol Harum,
Warren Ellis,
Joey Negro,
Hardrive,
Public Enemy,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Sonics,
Zero Boys,
Suicide,
The Black Dice,
Eric Dolphy,
Derrick May,
Davy DMX,
AZ,
Public Image Ltd.,
Scrapy,
the Soft Cell,
Mo-Dettes,
DNA,
The Monochrome Set,
John Holt,
New Order,
Franke,
Crooked Eye,
Pagans,
Bobby Byrd,
The Searchers,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Shadows of Knight,
Archie Shepp,
These Immortal Souls,
Kas Product,
Accadde A,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Kerri Chandler,
Massinfluence,
Lou Reed,
David Axelrod,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Agent Orange,
Arcadia,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Fela Kuti,
The Martian,
The Trojans,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines.
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.