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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Johannesburg.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Oppenheimer Analysis 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 Brand Nubian. All the underground hits.
All Blake Baxter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pretty Things record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eyeless In Gaza record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Maleditus Sound,
Blossom Toes,
Visage,
Johnny Clarke,
Jeru the Damaja,
a-ha,
Gang Starr,
Faust,
Scrapy,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Rotary Connection,
Gang Gang Dance,
In Retrospect,
Infiniti,
Sam Rivers,
Ten City,
Ronnie Foster,
The Monks,
Lalo Schifrin,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Roger Hodgson,
Wolf Eyes,
Boogie Down Productions,
Y Pants,
Franke,
The Slits,
The Velvet Underground,
Soul II Soul,
DJ Style,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
JFA,
Black Moon,
Liliput,
Kaleidoscope,
Ponytail,
Ludus,
Flipper,
Amazonics,
Q and Not U,
Bush Tetras,
Aswad,
Von Mondo,
Rapeman,
Chrome,
Marine Girls,
F. McDonald,
The Pop Group,
T. Rex,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Star Department,
Barclay James Harvest,
Ossler,
Godley & Creme,
The Knickerbockers,
Crime,
Mary Jane Girls,
Rufus Thomas,
Television Personalities,
Blake Baxter,
Kayak,
Derrick May,
Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus.
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.