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 Switzerland and from Milan.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Schoolly D to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Hardrive. All the underground hits.
All Guru Guru tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Banda Bassotti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Little Man record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
MDC,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Pulsallama,
Delon & Dalcan,
Big Daddy Kane,
Warsaw,
Derrick May,
Gong,
Dorothy Ashby,
the Fania All-Stars,
Donald Byrd,
Jeff Mills,
Roger Hodgson,
The Monks,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Selecter,
Babytalk,
T.S.O.L.,
Hot Snakes,
Radio Birdman,
Rhythm & Sound,
Livin' Joy,
Tommy Roe,
Dawn Penn,
Henry Cow,
Pussy Galore,
The Pretty Things,
The Doobie Brothers,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Searchers,
The Doors,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Bang On A Can,
Roy Ayers,
The Gladiators,
Gang of Four,
Pylon,
Wally Richardson,
Sonny Sharrock,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Animal Collective,
The Star Department,
Ken Boothe,
the Germs,
Chrome,
Joyce Sims,
The Wake,
Wire,
Technova,
Grauzone,
Sex Pistols,
Grey Daturas,
Mad Mike,
Charles Mingus,
DJ Sneak,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Kaleidoscope,
Crispian St. Peters,
Skaos,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Raincoats, The Raincoats, The Raincoats, The Raincoats.
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.