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 Bulgaria 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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the snare 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 Louis and Bebe Barron to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Count Five. All the underground hits.
All Anakelly tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Beasts of Bourbon 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Piero Umiliani record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Anakelly,
Camouflage,
Von Mondo,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Rufus Thomas,
Gang Gang Dance,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Knickerbockers,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Remains,
June of 44,
Liliput,
The Music Machine,
Kerrie Biddell,
Spoonie Gee,
The Misunderstood,
Gichy Dan,
Jacques Brel,
Dorothy Ashby,
Johnny Osbourne,
Rapeman,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Interpol,
Stereo Dub,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Michelle Simonal,
The Dirtbombs,
Hot Snakes,
Sight & Sound,
Oneida,
Joe Finger,
Glambeats Corp.,
Procol Harum,
Jeff Mills,
Piero Umiliani,
Cal Tjader,
The Motions,
Panda Bear,
Tubeway Army,
These Immortal Souls,
Minor Threat,
Simply Red,
Radiohead,
Matthew Bourne,
Television,
Laurel Aitken,
Pere Ubu,
The Fortunes,
Thee Headcoats,
Vainqueur,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Searchers,
Man Parrish,
the Germs,
Magazine,
T. Rex,
DJ Sneak,
Depeche Mode,
Sexual Harrassment,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
New Age Steppers,
Deakin, Deakin, Deakin, Deakin.
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.