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 Gabon and from London.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 John Coltrane to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Alison Limerick. All the underground hits.
All PIL tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Prince Buster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harmonia record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blancmange,
Eric Dolphy,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Martian,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ultra Naté,
Black Sheep,
Eli Mardock,
Zero Boys,
The Offenders,
The Dave Clark Five,
Mad Mike,
Max Romeo,
Chris Corsano,
Gerry Rafferty,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
New Order,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Albert Ayler,
Isaac Hayes,
Scan 7,
The Cure,
Mandrill,
R.M.O.,
Ohio Players,
The Real Kids,
U.S. Maple,
Maleditus Sound,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Zapp,
Nirvana,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Outsiders,
Underground Resistance,
Bob Dylan,
B.T. Express,
Amon Düül,
Lee Hazlewood,
Brick,
Electric Prunes,
The Blackbyrds,
Robert Wyatt,
The Shadows of Knight,
X-102,
Ultravox,
Scion,
The Pretty Things,
Piero Umiliani,
Shoche,
Liliput,
DJ Style,
The Associates,
Crooked Eye,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Erasure,
The Motions,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Mummies,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon.
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.