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 Congo and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Janne Schatter to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Smiths. All the underground hits.
All the Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Babytalk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blancmange,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Boogie Down Productions,
Bronski Beat,
Hashim,
Lucky Dragons,
Severed Heads,
Robert Görl,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Mars,
Cecil Taylor,
Glambeats Corp.,
Arab on Radar,
Cabaret Voltaire,
T.S.O.L.,
The Vogues,
the Normal,
Electric Prunes,
Procol Harum,
Gil Scott Heron,
Anakelly,
The Misunderstood,
Glenn Branca,
Bobby Byrd,
Pagans,
Frankie Knuckles,
Kurtis Blow,
The Knickerbockers,
Goldenarms,
Nation of Ulysses,
Magma,
Infiniti,
James White and The Blacks,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gang Starr,
Faust,
Bobby Womack,
Popol Vuh,
Skriet,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Index,
Boredoms,
Deadbeat,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Derrick May,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Absolute Body Control,
Ken Boothe,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Reuben Wilson,
Hasil Adkins,
Marshall Jefferson,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Babytalk,
Amon Düül,
Rapeman,
The Mojo Men,
Deepchord,
Joyce Sims,
the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars.
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.