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 Jamaica and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 sitar 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 Glenn Branca to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Surgeon. All the underground hits.
All Silicon Teens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fuzztones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Khruangbin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hardrive,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
a-ha,
Avey Tare,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Monks,
10cc,
Gang Starr,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bill Wells,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Inner City,
Guru Guru,
The Gladiators,
The Angels of Light,
Terrestrial Tones,
Scan 7,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Cure,
Johnny Osbourne,
Gichy Dan,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Cramps,
Bill Near,
Ossler,
Scion,
Joey Negro,
CMW,
Sonic Youth,
Graham Central Station,
Brothers Johnson,
The Invisible,
The Black Dice,
Brick,
Moebius,
The Durutti Column,
Average White Band,
Davy DMX,
Fugazi,
Todd Terry,
Lower 48,
David Bowie,
Aural Exciters,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Duran Duran,
Pylon,
Yaz,
June of 44,
Delta 5,
Wasted Youth,
Tubeway Army,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Velvet Underground,
Khruangbin,
Ponytail,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Mojo Men,
Josef K,
Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby.
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.