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 Germany and from Stockholm.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Robert Görl to the jazz 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 The Toasters. All the underground hits.
All Circle Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharoah Sanders 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moss Icon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rites of Spring,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Cure,
Darondo,
CMW,
The Moleskins,
Lyres,
B.T. Express,
Suicide,
The J.B.'s,
Lucky Dragons,
Barrington Levy,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Cymande,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Jandek,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Wire,
Piero Umiliani,
June of 44,
Prince Buster,
Das Ding,
Fatback Band,
UT,
Dawn Penn,
Throbbing Gristle,
Eric B and Rakim,
Gil Scott Heron,
New York Dolls,
The Fire Engines,
Joyce Sims,
Marvin Gaye,
Eurythmics,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
PIL,
Rhythm & Sound,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Bizarre Inc.,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Barclay James Harvest,
Albert Ayler,
Dave Gahan,
The Doors,
The Remains,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Ultimate Spinach,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Eve St. Jones,
Blake Baxter,
In Retrospect,
MDC,
Johnny Osbourne,
Cluster,
Fear,
The Selecter,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Easy Going,
cv313,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.