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 Ireland and from Edmonton.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the snare 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 Ken Boothe to the electroclash 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 Soul Sonic Force. All the underground hits.
All Rosa Yemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The American Breed record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gories record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aswad,
Mission of Burma,
Grauzone,
Radio Birdman,
Max Romeo,
Y Pants,
Jandek,
Sällskapet,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Rufus Thomas,
Byron Stingily,
Malaria!,
New York Dolls,
Kurtis Blow,
Vladislav Delay,
Gil Scott Heron,
Marvin Gaye,
The Blues Magoos,
Andrew Hill,
Al Stewart,
Joensuu 1685,
The Gladiators,
Brick,
John Foxx,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Sugar Minott,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Icehouse,
the Bar-Kays,
Sister Nancy,
Basic Channel,
Flamin' Groovies,
James White and The Blacks,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
a-ha,
Goldenarms,
In Retrospect,
Crooked Eye,
John Coltrane,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Con Funk Shun,
Country Teasers,
Crispian St. Peters,
Bauhaus,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Doobie Brothers,
Barry Ungar,
Eve St. Jones,
Amazonics,
Kerrie Biddell,
Cal Tjader,
Underground Resistance,
The Grass Roots,
The Black Dice,
Neil Young,
Gabor Szabo,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
David Axelrod,
Cecil Taylor,
Tomorrow,
Barrington Levy,
the Normal,
The Evens, The Evens, The Evens, The Evens.
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.