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 Germany and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All The Skatalites tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Hill record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Byron Stingily record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Music Machine,
F. McDonald,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Donald Byrd,
Jeru the Damaja,
Newcleus,
Ultra Naté,
Black Sheep,
Pagans,
Masters at Work,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Scan 7,
Wally Richardson,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
FM Einheit,
Mantronix,
Ponytail,
Pantaleimon,
John Holt,
Maleditus Sound,
The Wake,
Thompson Twins,
Joyce Sims,
Andrew Hill,
Public Enemy,
Erasure,
Drive Like Jehu,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Young Marble Giants,
Minutemen,
Heaven 17,
Charles Mingus,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Scion,
Rod Modell,
Graham Central Station,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Misunderstood,
The Invisible,
Piero Umiliani,
The Raincoats,
Absolute Body Control,
Spandau Ballet,
Amon Düül II,
Danielle Patucci,
Brand Nubian,
Byron Stingily,
Lebanon Hanover,
the Sonics,
Brothers Johnson,
Al Stewart,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Crispian St. Peters,
Wolf Eyes,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Patti Smith,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
LL Cool J,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Con Funk Shun,
Stiv Bators,
Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen.
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.