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 Libya and from Taipei.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Star Department to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Jeru the Damaja. All the underground hits.
All Rotary Connection tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Victims record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minnie Riperton,
Sugar Minott,
Lyres,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Joey Negro,
Wire,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Animal Collective,
Absolute Body Control,
Alison Limerick,
Silicon Teens,
Hot Snakes,
the Swans,
Gang Green,
Dorothy Ashby,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Moebius,
48th St. Collective,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Modern Lovers,
Pierre Henry,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Curtis Mayfield,
Bush Tetras,
Sixth Finger,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Invisible,
Ornette Coleman,
Blancmange,
Carl Craig,
Ohio Players,
Babytalk,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Howard Jones,
Funkadelic,
Soul II Soul,
Spandau Ballet,
Joe Smooth,
Roxette,
X-102,
Magazine,
Siglo XX,
Albert Ayler,
Crispian St. Peters,
Mars,
Gil Scott Heron,
Michelle Simonal,
Shoche,
Shuggie Otis,
Man Parrish,
Ronan,
Porter Ricks,
Eddi Front,
Pharoah Sanders,
Mark Hollis,
Donald Byrd,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Magma,
Kool Moe Dee,
Kas Product,
Moby Grape,
Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster.
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.