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 Ivory Coast and from Taipei.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Nas to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Fort Wilson Riot. All the underground hits.
All The American Breed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Spandau Ballet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Inner City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gastr Del Sol,
Roy Ayers,
Pantytec,
The Angels of Light,
Tomorrow,
Kurtis Blow,
Surgeon,
Fatback Band,
Scan 7,
The Doors,
Sexual Harrassment,
Con Funk Shun,
K-Klass,
David Axelrod,
Rakim,
The Victims,
Simply Red,
Sonic Youth,
DJ Style,
Todd Terry,
Mo-Dettes,
Todd Rundgren,
Procol Harum,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Fela Kuti,
Junior Murvin,
Stiv Bators,
Mad Mike,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Graham Central Station,
The Cramps,
Metal Thangz,
Soft Cell,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Buzzcocks,
X-Ray Spex,
The Smoke,
Ultravox,
Los Fastidios,
Lou Reed,
Boredoms,
Fat Boys,
Althea and Donna,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Tres Demented,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Sun Ra,
Stereo Dub,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Whodini,
Kerrie Biddell,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Cluster,
Max Romeo,
Pussy Galore,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
John Coltrane,
China Crisis,
Anakelly,
Eric Dolphy,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Gladiators,
Chris Corsano,
David McCallum,
Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo.
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.