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 Greece 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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Sandy B to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Animal Collective. All the underground hits.
All Charles Mingus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Intrusion 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rapeman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moss Icon,
UT,
Bush Tetras,
Flash Fearless,
Minnie Riperton,
Brass Construction,
Fugazi,
Connie Case,
The Mummies,
Aloha Tigers,
Radiohead,
Tropical Tobacco,
Symarip,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Skatalites,
Robert Wyatt,
Ohio Players,
Soft Machine,
X-Ray Spex,
These Immortal Souls,
Eurythmics,
David Bowie,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Donald Byrd,
Lakeside,
Kevin Saunderson,
Circle Jerks,
Pussy Galore,
The Motions,
T.S.O.L.,
Gang Green,
Matthew Bourne,
Laurel Aitken,
John Foxx,
The American Breed,
Eddi Front,
The Cramps,
Susan Cadogan,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Groovy Waters,
The Doors,
Lalann,
Patti Smith,
Robert Hood,
Barrington Levy,
The Dead C,
Franke,
Roy Ayers,
The United States of America,
Shuggie Otis,
Reuben Wilson,
Maleditus Sound,
Erasure,
Fluxion,
The Detroit Cobras,
Henry Cow,
Peter and Kerry,
EPMD,
Grey Daturas,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Boz Scaggs,
Niagra,
H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme.
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.