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 Comoros and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Whodini. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Agent Orange 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lucky Dragons record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slackers,
the Swans,
UT,
Roy Ayers,
The Real Kids,
Aural Exciters,
Sun Ra,
Organ,
Spoonie Gee,
Minor Threat,
Sight & Sound,
Glenn Branca,
the Soft Cell,
Barry Ungar,
The Divine Comedy,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Brothers Johnson,
Iggy Pop,
Aswad,
The Dirtbombs,
John Cale,
Wasted Youth,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
In Retrospect,
Camberwell Now,
Alison Limerick,
Jeff Mills,
Simply Red,
Terry Callier,
Sexual Harrassment,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Schoolly D,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Section 25,
a-ha,
The Beau Brummels,
The Gladiators,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
John Coltrane,
Eli Mardock,
The Five Americans,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Henry Cow,
Pussy Galore,
Scratch Acid,
Lou Christie,
Outsiders,
The Music Machine,
Matthew Halsall,
Darondo,
Charles Mingus,
The Grass Roots,
Robert Wyatt,
K-Klass,
Mars,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Rod Modell,
EPMD,
The Monks,
the Slits,
Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip.
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.