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 Nicaragua and from Woodstock.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 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 These Immortal Souls to the crunk 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 Selector Dub Narcotic. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Hill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Davy DMX record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Althea and Donna record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gun Club,
Qualms,
Scion,
Banda Bassotti,
The Saints,
Intrusion,
Bobby Sherman,
Slave,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Janne Schatter,
Wally Richardson,
Zapp,
Brand Nubian,
Sex Pistols,
Absolute Body Control,
The Pop Group,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pussy Galore,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Outsiders,
The Busters,
The Fugs,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
X-101,
Scott Walker,
Alphaville,
Motorama,
Donald Byrd,
Swans,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
KRS-One,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Wake,
Eli Mardock,
Junior Murvin,
K-Klass,
Reuben Wilson,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Flash Fearless,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Wings,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Kayak,
Babytalk,
The Cramps,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Joy Division,
Livin' Joy,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Graham Central Station,
Basic Channel,
Surgeon,
Sarah Menescal,
Scrapy,
Susan Cadogan,
Symarip,
the Normal,
X-Ray Spex,
Ronnie Foster,
Oneida,
JFA, JFA, JFA, JFA.
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.