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 Austria and from New York.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Massinfluence to the rap 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 The Toasters. All the underground hits.
All Shoche tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Frankie Knuckles record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cybotron,
Vainqueur,
Thompson Twins,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Offenders,
the Association,
Nas,
Heaven 17,
Dennis Brown,
Black Flag,
Circle Jerks,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Selecter,
Depeche Mode,
Delta 5,
The Index,
Pere Ubu,
The Electric Prunes,
Young Marble Giants,
The Trojans,
Motorama,
The Gladiators,
Y Pants,
Grauzone,
Mantronix,
Chris & Cosey,
Tubeway Army,
Pole,
Stetsasonic,
Sun Ra,
Talk Talk,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Flesh Eaters,
Jandek,
Soft Machine,
X-Ray Spex,
Minor Threat,
The Techniques,
Rapeman,
The Monks,
Letta Mbulu,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Names,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Fuzztones,
Con Funk Shun,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Barracudas,
Gregory Isaacs,
John Holt,
the Sonics,
The J.B.'s,
Sandy B,
The Leaves,
Franke,
Rhythm & Sound,
Metal Thangz,
Sound Behaviour,
Tommy Roe,
Cluster,
Lyres,
Piero Umiliani,
Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet.
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.