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 Kuwait and from Philadelphia.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the organ 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 Sight & Sound to the funk 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 Frankie Knuckles. All the underground hits.
All Rufus Thomas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ossler record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Royal Trux,
Swell Maps,
Bobby Sherman,
Radiopuhelimet,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Pierre Henry,
Soft Cell,
The Monks,
Crispian St. Peters,
The United States of America,
Arcadia,
Tim Buckley,
Yaz,
Ituana,
MDC,
Eurythmics,
Bobby Byrd,
The Barracudas,
Aloha Tigers,
The Slits,
The Victims,
Eden Ahbez,
Robert Wyatt,
Make Up,
The Divine Comedy,
the Sonics,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Kayak,
Infiniti,
Sex Pistols,
Dark Day,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Grey Daturas,
Half Japanese,
Sparks,
Bill Wells,
Audionom,
Television Personalities,
The Angels of Light,
Popol Vuh,
Harpers Bizarre,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Sexual Harrassment,
Joe Smooth,
Man Parrish,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Minny Pops,
Joyce Sims,
World's Most,
E-Dancer,
Gang Starr,
Piero Umiliani,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Robert Görl,
Heaven 17,
Tommy Roe,
Q and Not U,
KRS-One,
Junior Murvin,
Laurel Aitken,
The Move,
New Age Steppers,
Barry Ungar,
Bootsy's Rubber Band, Bootsy's Rubber Band, Bootsy's Rubber Band, Bootsy's Rubber Band.
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.