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 Nigeria and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 B.T. Express to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Whodini. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bill Wells record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glambeats Corp. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Parrish,
Grauzone,
Judy Mowatt,
The Fortunes,
Mr. Review,
Gang Gang Dance,
Scott Walker,
R.M.O.,
Cluster,
Whodini,
Minutemen,
The Zeros,
Visage,
Silicon Teens,
Gabor Szabo,
The Black Dice,
Byron Stingily,
Gang Starr,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
T.S.O.L.,
The Fugs,
Moss Icon,
Eve St. Jones,
Freddie Wadling,
The Last Poets,
Siglo XX,
Ossler,
Lalo Schifrin,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Beau Brummels,
Altered Images,
Nation of Ulysses,
JFA,
Easy Going,
The Mighty Diamonds,
World's Most,
Smog,
John Holt,
Deadbeat,
Tom Boy,
Suburban Knight,
Masters at Work,
Leonard Cohen,
The Wake,
Unrelated Segments,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bauhaus,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
H. Thieme,
Sparks,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Stooges,
Colin Newman,
Robert Görl,
Soul II Soul,
Barrington Levy,
The Gladiators,
Althea and Donna,
Spoonie Gee,
Procol Harum,
Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo.
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.