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 South Sudan and from Salvador.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Ornette Coleman to the rock 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 Lungfish. All the underground hits.
All Sarah Menescal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slick Rick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quando Quango record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wally Richardson,
Colin Newman,
Curtis Mayfield,
Gastr Del Sol,
Icehouse,
Sparks,
Flamin' Groovies,
Skarface,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Dirtbombs,
Lalann,
Bush Tetras,
Amon Düül II,
Albert Ayler,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Surgeon,
The Stooges,
Blossom Toes,
Scott Walker,
New York Dolls,
Juan Atkins,
Vainqueur,
Marshall Jefferson,
Excepter,
Ronnie Foster,
Eric B and Rakim,
Tropical Tobacco,
Neu!,
The Monks,
Pagans,
Bobby Byrd,
Bill Wells,
Marcia Griffiths,
June of 44,
Von Mondo,
Siglo XX,
The Neon Judgement,
Pierre Henry,
Crooked Eye,
Harpers Bizarre,
Joe Smooth,
Scratch Acid,
The Slits,
The Trojans,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
the Germs,
Erasure,
Carl Craig,
Moby Grape,
Parry Music,
Janne Schatter,
Mark Hollis,
Gabor Szabo,
Soft Cell,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Goldenarms,
Eli Mardock,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Flipper,
Unrelated Segments,
Kerrie Biddell,
Echospace, Echospace, Echospace, Echospace.
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.