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 Algeria and from Columbus.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare 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 Ajijia Myrayebe to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 It's A Beautiful Day. All the underground hits.
All The Neon Judgement tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Michelle Simonal record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Manfred Mann's Earth Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
Simply Red,
OOIOO,
Jeff Mills,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Ken Boothe,
The Divine Comedy,
Model 500,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Human League,
Archie Shepp,
Mission of Burma,
The Sonics,
the Swans,
Glambeats Corp.,
Minny Pops,
Newcleus,
Thee Headcoats,
Wire,
Terrestrial Tones,
Metal Thangz,
Loose Ends,
John Coltrane,
Drive Like Jehu,
B.T. Express,
The Tremeloes,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Interpol,
Jeru the Damaja,
Guru Guru,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Siglo XX,
Wolf Eyes,
Can,
Lucky Dragons,
Y Pants,
World's Most,
Audionom,
Depeche Mode,
Curtis Mayfield,
DNA,
Gabor Szabo,
Donald Byrd,
Crime,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Ohio Players,
Angry Samoans,
The Angels of Light,
Bobby Sherman,
DJ Style,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Moleskins,
Sonny Sharrock,
James White and The Blacks,
Toni Rubio,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Smiths,
John Foxx,
The Techniques,
Gang Starr,
Spoonie Gee,
Fear,
Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks.
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.