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 Kuwait and from Mumbai.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Sao Paulo.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Wasted Youth to the dance 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 F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All Be Bop Deluxe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Anthony Braxton record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The United States of America record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New York Dolls,
Royal Trux,
Index,
David Bowie,
the Slits,
Deakin,
Soulsonic Force,
Shuggie Otis,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Pet Shop Boys,
John Lydon,
Con Funk Shun,
Charles Mingus,
Cymande,
The Cure,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Nico,
Fear,
kango's stein massive,
Lyres,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Searchers,
Joy Division,
James White and The Blacks,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Clear Light,
Throbbing Gristle,
John Cale,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Idris Muhammad,
Panda Bear,
R.M.O.,
Niagra,
Marshall Jefferson,
Isaac Hayes,
The Misunderstood,
Symarip,
Los Fastidios,
Gang Green,
Talk Talk,
Television Personalities,
Pulsallama,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Durutti Column,
The Music Machine,
Nick Fraelich,
The Dead C,
Desert Stars,
OOIOO,
Eve St. Jones,
Eric Dolphy,
The Index,
Alton Ellis,
The Flesh Eaters,
Joe Finger,
The Star Department,
Eden Ahbez,
Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight.
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.