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 China and from Houston.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 The Flesh Eaters to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux. All the underground hits.
All The Royal Family And The Poor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Throbbing Gristle,
Brick,
The Doobie Brothers,
Kerrie Biddell,
Groovy Waters,
Rakim,
Porter Ricks,
Ken Boothe,
The J.B.'s,
Blake Baxter,
Make Up,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Barbara Tucker,
Max Romeo,
Spoonie Gee,
Model 500,
Bronski Beat,
Magazine,
Idris Muhammad,
Robert Hood,
The Searchers,
the Bar-Kays,
Kurtis Blow,
Monks,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Standells,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Suicide,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Fortunes,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Con Funk Shun,
The Offenders,
Bad Manners,
Alice Coltrane,
Stetsasonic,
Fatback Band,
Mo-Dettes,
Pantaleimon,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Morten Harket,
Pylon,
Sex Pistols,
Radiopuhelimet,
Bauhaus,
The Grass Roots,
Cal Tjader,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Whodini,
The Beau Brummels,
Popol Vuh,
Urselle,
The Gap Band,
Connie Case,
Nas,
Flamin' Groovies,
John Coltrane,
New Age Steppers,
Drexciya,
Hot Snakes,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.