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 Ecuador and from Toronto.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Cymande to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Names. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultravox,
Erasure,
Donald Byrd,
Black Sheep,
Erykah Badu,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Scott Walker,
Bizarre Inc.,
Suburban Knight,
Delta 5,
Reagan Youth,
Pere Ubu,
the Swans,
Lyres,
Godley & Creme,
The Neon Judgement,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Roy Ayers,
DJ Style,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
F. McDonald,
Monks,
Au Pairs,
Fela Kuti,
Zero Boys,
Groovy Waters,
Yazoo,
Dawn Penn,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Gap Band,
The Grass Roots,
T. Rex,
New Age Steppers,
Bobby Sherman,
These Immortal Souls,
Hashim,
One Last Wish,
The Gories,
Fluxion,
Sixth Finger,
Saccharine Trust,
Camouflage,
Trumans Water,
Glenn Branca,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Joyce Sims,
Buzzcocks,
Radiohead,
Ultimate Spinach,
Malaria!,
Jeff Lynne,
Cecil Taylor,
The Selecter,
Slave,
Minor Threat,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
David Bowie,
Faraquet,
The Detroit Cobras,
Amon Düül,
EPMD, EPMD, EPMD, EPMD.
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.