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 San Marino and from Paris.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Franke to the grunge 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 Don Cherry. All the underground hits.
All Buzzcocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Index record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alice Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Certain Ratio,
Hasil Adkins,
Roxette,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Flipper,
Terry Callier,
Harry Pussy,
The Music Machine,
The Searchers,
Henry Cow,
The United States of America,
Donald Byrd,
Soft Machine,
David McCallum,
The Pretty Things,
Parry Music,
Warsaw,
Isaac Hayes,
Niagra,
The Selecter,
Ronnie Foster,
Pet Shop Boys,
Wally Richardson,
Brass Construction,
Masters at Work,
Urselle,
Panda Bear,
Freddie Wadling,
The Black Dice,
Neil Young,
Maurizio,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Fluxion,
Popol Vuh,
Barbara Tucker,
Yaz,
The Move,
Cecil Taylor,
The Dead C,
Gastr Del Sol,
Tres Demented,
Technova,
T.S.O.L.,
Suburban Knight,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Television Personalities,
Bobby Sherman,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Techniques,
Michelle Simonal,
Marcia Griffiths,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Judy Mowatt,
In Retrospect,
Lyres,
Liliput,
E-Dancer,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Ohio Players,
Bizarre Inc.,
Von Mondo,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Josef K, Josef K, Josef K, Josef K.
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.