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 Bahrain and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Danielle Patucci to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Index. All the underground hits.
All Royal Trux tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Copeland record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Smog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Saints,
Eden Ahbez,
Negative Approach,
Kenny Larkin,
Nas,
The Knickerbockers,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Black Bananas,
Dorothy Ashby,
Drexciya,
Slick Rick,
The Victims,
The Dirtbombs,
Faust,
Vladislav Delay,
The Dave Clark Five,
X-102,
Eli Mardock,
Chris Corsano,
Skaos,
Neu!,
Kevin Saunderson,
Tres Demented,
Boredoms,
Donny Hathaway,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Sonics,
Radiopuhelimet,
Flipper,
The Cure,
Symarip,
Morten Harket,
Arthur Verocai,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Selecter,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Velvet Underground,
Yazoo,
K-Klass,
John Cale,
Subhumans,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Soft Machine,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Eve St. Jones,
The Gories,
The Names,
The Gladiators,
Marmalade,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Kerrie Biddell,
Jerry's Kids,
Nik Kershaw,
Pulsallama,
Underground Resistance,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
the Slits,
Barry Ungar,
Eric Copeland,
Bluetip,
Gong,
UT, UT, UT, UT.
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.