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 Togo and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Calgary.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Stereo Dub to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Aural Exciters. All the underground hits.
All The Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cheater Slicks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Davy DMX,
OOIOO,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Yusef Lateef,
The Cosmic Jokers,
World's Most,
The Toasters,
Malaria!,
Laurel Aitken,
Lucky Dragons,
Heaven 17,
Alton Ellis,
Hasil Adkins,
Darondo,
Massinfluence,
Erasure,
Buzzcocks,
Kerrie Biddell,
the Human League,
the Bar-Kays,
Thee Headcoats,
Donald Byrd,
Theoretical Girls,
Metal Thangz,
Marcia Griffiths,
Khruangbin,
Avey Tare,
The Real Kids,
Livin' Joy,
Morten Harket,
Quadrant,
Ludus,
F. McDonald,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Index,
Saccharine Trust,
Swans,
ABBA,
48th St. Collective,
The Martian,
The Selecter,
Robert Hood,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Chris & Cosey,
Eddi Front,
Procol Harum,
The Remains,
John Lydon,
D'Angelo,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Electric Prunes,
New Age Steppers,
These Immortal Souls,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Idris Muhammad,
The Gladiators,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Cymande,
Half Japanese,
Harry Pussy,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.