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 Mali and from Bologna.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the 808 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 Sexual Harrassment to the electroclash 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 Brothers Johnson. All the underground hits.
All Iggy Pop tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Erykah Badu 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dorothy Ashby record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Saccharine Trust,
JFA,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Pulsallama,
Minutemen,
Girls At Our Best!,
Cymande,
The Electric Prunes,
Bob Dylan,
Public Enemy,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bush Tetras,
Lou Christie,
Gang Starr,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Sex Pistols,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Essential Logic,
Organ,
Reuben Wilson,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Red Krayola,
The Fire Engines,
H. Thieme,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Martian,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Erasure,
Marvin Gaye,
Kurtis Blow,
Mo-Dettes,
The Techniques,
Gichy Dan,
48th St. Collective,
Wolf Eyes,
Excepter,
The Barracudas,
Man Eating Sloth,
David McCallum,
Fela Kuti,
Sun City Girls,
Wire,
The Buckinghams,
Ultimate Spinach,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Spandau Ballet,
Negative Approach,
Letta Mbulu,
Outsiders,
The Pretty Things,
Steve Hackett,
Cluster,
Trumans Water,
Faust,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
the Normal,
10cc,
Deepchord,
FM Einheit,
Average White Band,
Slave, Slave, Slave, Slave.
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.