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 Serbia and from Lagos.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Alphaville. All the underground hits.
All LL Cool J tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bill Wells 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Zapp record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eyeless In Gaza,
June Days,
Aural Exciters,
The Monks,
Inner City,
The Mummies,
Wolf Eyes,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Tropical Tobacco,
Au Pairs,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Anthony Braxton,
Wings,
New York Dolls,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Swell Maps,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
the Fania All-Stars,
Roxy Music,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
David Axelrod,
Chris & Cosey,
B.T. Express,
Dawn Penn,
Peter & Gordon,
H. Thieme,
Blake Baxter,
Max Romeo,
Letta Mbulu,
Cal Tjader,
The Wake,
T. Rex,
Gang Gang Dance,
Robert Wyatt,
Sonny Sharrock,
Public Image Ltd.,
Blossom Toes,
Amon Düül,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Cramps,
Johnny Clarke,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Ponytail,
The Trojans,
Model 500,
Leonard Cohen,
Mandrill,
Jesper Dahlback,
Donald Byrd,
Porter Ricks,
Sarah Menescal,
Fela Kuti,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Quando Quango,
Youth Brigade,
Joey Negro,
Dead Boys,
Moby Grape,
Suburban Knight,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Cosmic Jokers,
UT,
Yaz, Yaz, Yaz, Yaz.
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.