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 Ethiopia and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Todd Terry to the rock 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 Das Ding. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Whodini record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DeepChord presents Echospace record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skriet,
Gregory Isaacs,
F. McDonald,
Todd Terry,
World's Most,
Surgeon,
Ornette Coleman,
Pantaleimon,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Doobie Brothers,
Public Enemy,
The Invisible,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
John Holt,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Tom Boy,
Motorama,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Johnny Clarke,
Don Cherry,
Letta Mbulu,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Circle Jerks,
Yusef Lateef,
The Move,
Nick Fraelich,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Suburban Knight,
The Names,
Neu!,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Cosmic Jokers,
T. Rex,
Jandek,
Mandrill,
One Last Wish,
Archie Shepp,
Sound Behaviour,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Radio Birdman,
Rites of Spring,
Dorothy Ashby,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Accadde A,
Duran Duran,
Zapp,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Slick Rick,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Janne Schatter,
Connie Case,
Eden Ahbez,
Brothers Johnson,
Nation of Ulysses,
Talk Talk,
Pylon,
Pierre Henry,
Smog,
Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood.
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.