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 Slovenia and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Black Dice. All the underground hits.
All The Royal Family And The Poor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Main Source record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kool Moe Dee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thompson Twins,
Bob Dylan,
Tomorrow,
Pere Ubu,
Girls At Our Best!,
Banda Bassotti,
Con Funk Shun,
The Five Americans,
D'Angelo,
Malaria!,
Lalann,
Masters at Work,
The Golliwogs,
Subhumans,
Mantronix,
Skriet,
Popol Vuh,
Johnny Clarke,
The Slits,
Supertramp,
Todd Terry,
Sexual Harrassment,
Man Parrish,
Jawbox,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Carl Craig,
Matthew Bourne,
Chrome,
Suicide,
The Techniques,
Marc Almond,
Von Mondo,
Yellowson,
Au Pairs,
Robert Görl,
Underground Resistance,
Grey Daturas,
Kerri Chandler,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Barry Ungar,
Fela Kuti,
Cluster,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Electric Prunes,
The Real Kids,
Jesper Dahlback,
Jeff Mills,
Ultra Naté,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Flesh Eaters,
June of 44,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Grandmaster Flash,
Marmalade,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Cure,
The Beau Brummels,
Kaleidoscope,
The Cowsills,
Stockholm Monsters,
Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic.
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.