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 Laos and from Accra.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet 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 The Doobie Brothers to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Tremeloes. All the underground hits.
All Althea and Donna tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ornette Coleman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Eating Sloth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Anthony Braxton,
Matthew Bourne,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Harry Pussy,
A Certain Ratio,
Accadde A,
Amazonics,
Kerri Chandler,
Black Bananas,
Lee Hazlewood,
In Retrospect,
Wasted Youth,
Can,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Lou Reed,
Schoolly D,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Ice-T,
The New Christs,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Supertramp,
One Last Wish,
New Order,
Junior Murvin,
Lungfish,
PIL,
the Swans,
Prince Buster,
Gastr Del Sol,
Skarface,
The Velvet Underground,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Kenny Larkin,
Joey Negro,
Laurel Aitken,
Dennis Brown,
KRS-One,
Adolescents,
Terry Callier,
Suicide,
Lindisfarne,
The Barracudas,
The Dave Clark Five,
The J.B.'s,
Aaron Thompson,
The Walker Brothers,
Howard Jones,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Crispy Ambulance,
Glambeats Corp.,
Bang On A Can,
Infiniti,
Roxette,
Niagra,
Carl Craig,
the Bar-Kays,
Aloha Tigers,
Archie Shepp,
U.S. Maple,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Rosa Yemen,
Arab on Radar,
David Bowie, David Bowie, David Bowie, David Bowie.
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.