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 Bahrain and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 Lagos and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Robert Palmer 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 Rapeman to the grunge 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 Andrew Hill. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerri Chandler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Babytalk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Graham Central Station,
Essential Logic,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ralphi Rosario,
Marmalade,
Eric Copeland,
The Black Dice,
Johnny Clarke,
Massinfluence,
Trumans Water,
Liliput,
Yellowson,
Johnny Osbourne,
Kas Product,
Excepter,
Monolake,
Darondo,
Unrelated Segments,
James White and The Blacks,
The Alarm Clocks,
Iggy Pop,
The Five Americans,
Sugar Minott,
Dawn Penn,
The Busters,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Warsaw,
Freddie Wadling,
Reagan Youth,
Eddi Front,
The Mojo Men,
Deepchord,
Lalann,
Quantec,
Black Pus,
Harmonia,
Newcleus,
June of 44,
Swans,
the Bar-Kays,
The Star Department,
Wasted Youth,
kango's stein massive,
Grandmaster Flash,
Talk Talk,
Brand Nubian,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Tremeloes,
Eurythmics,
Faraquet,
Alice Coltrane,
Bobby Byrd,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Swell Maps,
The Saints,
Absolute Body Control,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bang On A Can,
The Buckinghams,
Boz Scaggs,
Gil Scott Heron,
Godley & Creme,
Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders.
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.