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 Nigeria 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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 marimba 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 Soft Cell to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Funky Four + One. All the underground hits.
All Youth Brigade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispy Ambulance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Grass Roots record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sly & The Family Stone,
Jimmy McGriff,
Carl Craig,
Pussy Galore,
Stiv Bators,
The Fuzztones,
John Cale,
Metal Thangz,
Cluster,
Be Bop Deluxe,
New Age Steppers,
Albert Ayler,
Soul II Soul,
Lou Reed,
Black Sheep,
Cheater Slicks,
Erykah Badu,
Procol Harum,
Crispian St. Peters,
Fatback Band,
David Bowie,
The Pretty Things,
cv313,
Lower 48,
The Star Department,
Desert Stars,
The Slackers,
Agitation Free,
The Invisible,
Suburban Knight,
Second Layer,
Cymande,
Japan,
Monks,
48th St. Collective,
The Techniques,
The Music Machine,
Dawn Penn,
T. Rex,
Oblivians,
Unwound,
Pierre Henry,
The Doors,
Cecil Taylor,
Josef K,
Derrick Morgan,
Peter & Gordon,
Tom Boy,
The Five Americans,
The Barracudas,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Smoke,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Cramps,
This Heat,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Skaos,
Kevin Saunderson,
Cybotron,
Sällskapet,
Fluxion,
Terrestrial Tones,
Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes.
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.