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 Bulgaria and from New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Sugar Minott 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 Warsaw. All the underground hits.
All Supertramp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Wake record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 a chamberlin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Parry Music,
The Busters,
48th St. Collective,
Black Moon,
Unrelated Segments,
The Count Five,
New Order,
Mo-Dettes,
Newcleus,
Lyres,
Swell Maps,
Bizarre Inc.,
Pierre Henry,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Slick Rick,
David Axelrod,
Eurythmics,
Anthony Braxton,
Stereo Dub,
Brick,
Aswad,
Joyce Sims,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Surgeon,
Interpol,
Harpers Bizarre,
Albert Ayler,
The Buckinghams,
Pulsallama,
The Red Krayola,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Saints,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Infiniti,
Bootsy Collins,
Ornette Coleman,
Gabor Szabo,
Curtis Mayfield,
Pussy Galore,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Glambeats Corp.,
Ken Boothe,
KRS-One,
Skarface,
Mission of Burma,
Ultimate Spinach,
Sight & Sound,
Stetsasonic,
Donny Hathaway,
Donald Byrd,
the Human League,
Scrapy,
Black Pus,
The Litter,
Todd Rundgren,
Siglo XX,
Funky Four + One,
Whodini,
Bobby Sherman,
The Blues Magoos,
Magma,
Quando Quango,
UT,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.