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 Slovakia and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 marimba 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 James White and The Blacks to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Bang on a Can All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Electric Prunes 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Holt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Nils Olav,
Don Cherry,
Public Enemy,
Idris Muhammad,
Ice-T,
The Kinks,
Brick,
Sexual Harrassment,
Cluster,
Porter Ricks,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Motorama,
the Swans,
JFA,
Excepter,
The Zeros,
Q and Not U,
The Electric Prunes,
Young Marble Giants,
Country Teasers,
Traffic Nightmare,
D'Angelo,
Fear,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Flash Fearless,
Alton Ellis,
Iggy Pop,
Saccharine Trust,
In Retrospect,
Gang Gang Dance,
Symarip,
Soulsonic Force,
Mad Mike,
Scrapy,
The Techniques,
Half Japanese,
Minor Threat,
Terry Callier,
Connie Case,
Boredoms,
Funkadelic,
Agitation Free,
Sound Behaviour,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
MC5,
The Shadows of Knight,
Black Flag,
Grandmaster Flash,
Fluxion,
ABC,
Bootsy Collins,
Alice Coltrane,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Kaleidoscope,
Albert Ayler,
Hashim,
Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh.
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.