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 Papua New Guinea and from Cairo.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Angry Samoans to the dance 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 H. Thieme. All the underground hits.
All Ash Ra Tempel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fuzztones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mighty Diamonds,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Colin Newman,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Sound,
Con Funk Shun,
The Martian,
Joe Finger,
Lightning Bolt,
Freddie Wadling,
Jeff Mills,
UT,
Barrington Levy,
The Mummies,
Warsaw,
Jerry's Kids,
The Angels of Light,
Wasted Youth,
The Slits,
Ituana,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Trojans,
DJ Style,
Neil Young,
Eric Copeland,
E-Dancer,
The Offenders,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Make Up,
Easy Going,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Symarip,
Ronnie Foster,
Kaleidoscope,
Brothers Johnson,
Moss Icon,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Mojo Men,
Bronski Beat,
The Leaves,
Ultimate Spinach,
Brass Construction,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Model 500,
The Doors,
The Tremeloes,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Radio Birdman,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Ken Boothe,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Au Pairs,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Technova,
Peter & Gordon,
Skriet,
Crispy Ambulance,
Anthony Braxton,
Unrelated Segments,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Vogues,
Mission of Burma,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo.
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.