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 Palau and from Philadelphia.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Lyon.
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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 The Red Krayola to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Dead C. All the underground hits.
All Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Traffic Nightmare 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barrington Levy,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Don Cherry,
Kenny Larkin,
The Move,
The Durutti Column,
Scrapy,
Warsaw,
Sam Rivers,
Slick Rick,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Sexual Harrassment,
Nils Olav,
Joensuu 1685,
Pantytec,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
This Heat,
Lebanon Hanover,
Eric Dolphy,
Eddi Front,
Country Teasers,
Man Eating Sloth,
Oneida,
Althea and Donna,
Derrick Morgan,
Sugar Minott,
Rapeman,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Vladislav Delay,
Ultra Naté,
Silicon Teens,
Lou Christie,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
John Cale,
The Remains,
The Evens,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Martian,
Magma,
The Dirtbombs,
Lakeside,
The Happenings,
Jerry Gold Smith,
48th St. Collective,
New Age Steppers,
D'Angelo,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Babytalk,
The Last Poets,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Mad Mike,
Desert Stars,
Mantronix,
DJ Style,
Alphaville,
Pole,
La Düsseldorf,
Faust,
The Moleskins,
Kas Product,
Aural Exciters,
James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions.
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.