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 Singapore and from Portland.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 sitar 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 Gil Scott Heron to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Ash Ra Tempel. All the underground hits.
All Max Romeo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fortunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Marmalade,
Das Ding,
Lakeside,
Scrapy,
Eli Mardock,
Sex Pistols,
The Fortunes,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Lalann,
Reagan Youth,
The Cure,
Stiv Bators,
Jeff Mills,
Con Funk Shun,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Mojo Men,
Infiniti,
Mission of Burma,
Rites of Spring,
Inner City,
Ultra Naté,
Stockholm Monsters,
Lower 48,
Parry Music,
La Düsseldorf,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Monolake,
Talk Talk,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Toni Rubio,
Susan Cadogan,
The Last Poets,
The Smiths,
Charles Mingus,
Mark Hollis,
Hoover,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Slave,
PIL,
Ronnie Foster,
The Techniques,
48th St. Collective,
Tommy Roe,
Aswad,
Bronski Beat,
John Holt,
The Invisible,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Dawn Penn,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Sixth Finger,
Motorama,
Juan Atkins,
Rufus Thomas,
Arab on Radar,
Max Romeo,
CMW,
Brick,
Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane.
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.