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 Malta and from Houston.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 güiro 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 Surgeon to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Chocolate Watch Band. All the underground hits.
All Sad Lovers and Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Junior Murvin 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Black Dice record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Suicide,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Wake,
Deadbeat,
The Remains,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Fluxion,
Angry Samoans,
Gang of Four,
Public Enemy,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Sound,
Pylon,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Lower 48,
Black Flag,
Neu!,
Pet Shop Boys,
Skaos,
The Music Machine,
Hashim,
David McCallum,
Dead Boys,
Sixth Finger,
Gregory Isaacs,
Bobbi Humphrey,
PIL,
Ultravox,
Steve Hackett,
Moby Grape,
Animal Collective,
Donny Hathaway,
The Martian,
F. McDonald,
Soft Machine,
Crooked Eye,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Byron Stingily,
Grandmaster Flash,
Eddi Front,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Mad Mike,
Rufus Thomas,
Underground Resistance,
The Real Kids,
Harmonia,
Yusef Lateef,
Robert Wyatt,
Rakim,
Cymande,
Tears for Fears,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
the Sonics,
Soul Sonic Force,
Bush Tetras,
Mandrill,
June of 44,
The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood.
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.