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 Albania and from Sao Paulo.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 LL Cool J 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 Bang On A Can. All the underground hits.
All Jeru the Damaja tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kevin Saunderson 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mission of Burma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Busters,
Sandy B,
Drive Like Jehu,
the Fania All-Stars,
Wire,
The Fugs,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Niagra,
The Offenders,
The Martian,
Mo-Dettes,
Curtis Mayfield,
Donny Hathaway,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Sonny Sharrock,
X-Ray Spex,
Cymande,
The Walker Brothers,
Thee Headcoats,
Vladislav Delay,
The Selecter,
Gang Starr,
Zapp,
Donald Byrd,
Jerry's Kids,
Mandrill,
Michelle Simonal,
The Gladiators,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Bobbi Humphrey,
CMW,
The Music Machine,
Theoretical Girls,
Robert Hood,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Deepchord,
Whodini,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Swell Maps,
Shoche,
Funkadelic,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Shadows of Knight,
Dual Sessions,
Janne Schatter,
Man Parrish,
Q and Not U,
Bad Manners,
The Buckinghams,
The New Christs,
Malaria!,
Moss Icon,
Outsiders,
Reuben Wilson,
The Trojans,
Kevin Saunderson,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Fire Engines,
Roger Hodgson,
The Smiths,
Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat.
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.