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 Zambia and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 snare 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 Sonic Youth to the disco 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 Althea and Donna. All the underground hits.
All Eve St. Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dorothy Ashby record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
The Sound,
World's Most,
MC5,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Dorothy Ashby,
Anakelly,
Toni Rubio,
ABBA,
Country Teasers,
Technova,
Henry Cow,
June of 44,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Steve Hackett,
Flipper,
Oneida,
Slick Rick,
The Martian,
The Seeds,
KRS-One,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Neon Judgement,
Skarface,
Eddi Front,
Warsaw,
The Evens,
Ludus,
Whodini,
Bob Dylan,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Remains,
The Saints,
Soulsonic Force,
China Crisis,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Victims,
Maleditus Sound,
Underground Resistance,
Mark Hollis,
CMW,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Black Bananas,
Con Funk Shun,
Lower 48,
Lou Reed,
Pussy Galore,
Crispy Ambulance,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Ten City,
The Associates,
DJ Style,
Dual Sessions,
Bill Wells,
Lebanon Hanover,
Clear Light,
Alice Coltrane,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Charles Mingus,
Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians.
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.