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 Mexico and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Bluetip 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 Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon. All the underground hits.
All The Golliwogs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crooked Eye 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Divine Comedy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
Avey Tare,
Eurythmics,
The Five Americans,
Traffic Nightmare,
R.M.O.,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Black Moon,
Quantec,
Lightning Bolt,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Litter,
Monks,
D'Angelo,
Harmonia,
Mo-Dettes,
Hardrive,
Jacob Miller,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Nirvana,
The Invisible,
Robert Hood,
Soft Cell,
Minnie Riperton,
The Residents,
Hashim,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Khruangbin,
Roxy Music,
Marcia Griffiths,
Mandrill,
The Gladiators,
Funkadelic,
Vladislav Delay,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Happenings,
Crispy Ambulance,
Radiohead,
Echospace,
Deadbeat,
Delon & Dalcan,
Rhythm & Sound,
Index,
Rotary Connection,
The Gap Band,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Skarface,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Sonny Sharrock,
New Age Steppers,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Toasters,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Thompson Twins,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Brick,
Roxette,
Man Parrish,
Junior Murvin,
Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins.
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.