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 Tuvalu 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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 rhodes 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 the Normal to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All Nas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Animal Collective record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The J.B.'s,
The Star Department,
Skriet,
Kerrie Biddell,
the Fania All-Stars,
Warren Ellis,
Ken Boothe,
Peter & Gordon,
Outsiders,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Dead C,
Black Moon,
X-102,
Maurizio,
D'Angelo,
Fugazi,
The Martian,
Chris Corsano,
The Pop Group,
Moby Grape,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Graham Central Station,
Mantronix,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Leonard Cohen,
Ice-T,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Blossom Toes,
New Age Steppers,
Yellowson,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Das Ding,
Agent Orange,
Talk Talk,
Marshall Jefferson,
Blake Baxter,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Brothers Johnson,
Bush Tetras,
Man Eating Sloth,
Q65,
Bobby Byrd,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Heaven 17,
The Moleskins,
Aural Exciters,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Basic Channel,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Sound,
Suburban Knight,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Bootsy Collins,
Fat Boys,
Moss Icon,
Arthur Verocai,
The Doobie Brothers,
Sixth Finger,
Crash Course in Science,
Sexual Harrassment,
Soft Machine,
Mandrill,
June of 44, June of 44, June of 44, June of 44.
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.