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 Uzbekistan and from Johannesburg.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Andrew Hill to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Last Poets. All the underground hits.
All Cymande tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Shoche,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Graham Central Station,
Anakelly,
PIL,
Bush Tetras,
Pagans,
U.S. Maple,
Stereo Dub,
The Kinks,
The Stooges,
Wally Richardson,
Technova,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Japan,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Move,
Gil Scott Heron,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Pop Group,
The Standells,
Fatback Band,
Wolf Eyes,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jerry's Kids,
Loose Ends,
Todd Terry,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Robert Wyatt,
Neu!,
Panda Bear,
Eli Mardock,
Mars,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Los Fastidios,
The Gories,
Blossom Toes,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Sarah Menescal,
Porter Ricks,
The Velvet Underground,
Desert Stars,
The Dirtbombs,
Intrusion,
Buzzcocks,
Stetsasonic,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Modern Lovers,
Lee Hazlewood,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
a-ha,
Symarip,
Young Marble Giants,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Brass Construction,
Saccharine Trust,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones.
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.