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 Bangladesh and from Winnipeg.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Wire to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Sisters of Mercy. All the underground hits.
All The Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Slits 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 guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reuben Wilson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Charles Mingus,
Henry Cow,
Wasted Youth,
Alice Coltrane,
Sound Behaviour,
The Music Machine,
Suburban Knight,
Drive Like Jehu,
Joe Smooth,
E-Dancer,
Sonic Youth,
Kayak,
T. Rex,
Jeff Lynne,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Youth Brigade,
Tommy Roe,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Boogie Down Productions,
Eddi Front,
The Count Five,
Ronan,
Black Moon,
Soft Machine,
Das Ding,
Pharoah Sanders,
Qualms,
Echospace,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Section 25,
Davy DMX,
Minnie Riperton,
Amon Düül II,
Delta 5,
Kerri Chandler,
Goldenarms,
The Tremeloes,
Slave,
DJ Sneak,
Interpol,
Flash Fearless,
Stiv Bators,
Technova,
L. Decosne,
Oblivians,
DJ Style,
Isaac Hayes,
The Vogues,
Cheater Slicks,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Vainqueur,
Robert Hood,
The Moleskins,
Bluetip,
Skarface,
Roxy Music,
Donny Hathaway,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
F. McDonald,
Colin Newman,
Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson.
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.