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 Togo and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Manila.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The New Christs to the crunk 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 Absolute Body Control. All the underground hits.
All The Angels of Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Erykah Badu 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tom Boy,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Amon Düül,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Ronan,
The Searchers,
The Neon Judgement,
cv313,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Chris Corsano,
Goldenarms,
The Divine Comedy,
Visage,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Camouflage,
Slave,
The Slackers,
Big Daddy Kane,
Shoche,
UT,
The Associates,
Johnny Osbourne,
Agent Orange,
The Cramps,
Deepchord,
Minny Pops,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Panda Bear,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Don Cherry,
Tears for Fears,
Sound Behaviour,
The Red Krayola,
Warren Ellis,
Andrew Hill,
Blancmange,
Hardrive,
Jeff Mills,
Gang Green,
Joe Smooth,
Aural Exciters,
Make Up,
Cluster,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Chris & Cosey,
Qualms,
The Music Machine,
John Cale,
Althea and Donna,
Lyres,
Ken Boothe,
Scratch Acid,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Modern Lovers,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
D'Angelo,
Subhumans,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Cure,
Altered Images,
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.