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 Gabon and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Spokane.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Chris & Cosey. All the underground hits.
All The Young Rascals tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Vogues 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Prince Buster,
Adolescents,
Robert Wyatt,
Eden Ahbez,
Country Teasers,
Black Flag,
Radio Birdman,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Bill Near,
Godley & Creme,
Tropical Tobacco,
Saccharine Trust,
Vladislav Delay,
Can,
Franke,
Funky Four + One,
Drexciya,
Skriet,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Selecter,
Sister Nancy,
Sonic Youth,
Black Sheep,
Stetsasonic,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Rapeman,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Pussy Galore,
Los Fastidios,
Lungfish,
New York Dolls,
Rakim,
Glenn Branca,
The Index,
Swans,
Ash Ra Tempel,
the Swans,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Nas,
Pagans,
The J.B.'s,
Buzzcocks,
Pantytec,
The Cramps,
Rosa Yemen,
The Residents,
Mission of Burma,
Ohio Players,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Fall,
Absolute Body Control,
Max Romeo,
Audionom,
Dave Gahan,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims.
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.