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 Mauritius 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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the rock 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 Lower 48. All the underground hits.
All Letta Mbulu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Trumans Water record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dave Clark Five,
Judy Mowatt,
Pantytec,
The Gories,
Terry Callier,
Angry Samoans,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Busters,
Rotary Connection,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jimmy McGriff,
Spoonie Gee,
Agent Orange,
Piero Umiliani,
Icehouse,
John Cale,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Bauhaus,
Yazoo,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Zeros,
Basic Channel,
Jandek,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Lyres,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sarah Menescal,
Stetsasonic,
Todd Terry,
Infiniti,
Hashim,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Trojans,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The American Breed,
Isaac Hayes,
The Remains,
New Age Steppers,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Kas Product,
Sugar Minott,
Pussy Galore,
Organ,
Blossom Toes,
Alton Ellis,
Ornette Coleman,
Lakeside,
Erykah Badu,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Sly & The Family Stone,
JFA,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Nico,
Donny Hathaway,
Ludus,
Animal Collective,
Newcleus,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Metal Thangz,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Camouflage,
Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. 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.