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 Ireland and from Madrid.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Albert Ayler to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Maleditus Sound. All the underground hits.
All Sugar Minott tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gian Franco Pienzio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brand Nubian,
UT,
Terry Callier,
Lower 48,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Hoover,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Smiths,
Ronnie Foster,
Ultravox,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Selecter,
Dennis Brown,
Funkadelic,
The Seeds,
Von Mondo,
The Toasters,
Bobby Sherman,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Pussy Galore,
Monolake,
Excepter,
The Moody Blues,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Hasil Adkins,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Sexual Harrassment,
Con Funk Shun,
Cecil Taylor,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Ralphi Rosario,
Los Fastidios,
Barclay James Harvest,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Shoche,
Eden Ahbez,
Hashim,
Anthony Braxton,
Warren Ellis,
Radiopuhelimet,
Eli Mardock,
X-Ray Spex,
Porter Ricks,
Main Source,
Jeru the Damaja,
Tropical Tobacco,
Harry Pussy,
Gang Green,
Gang Starr,
Boogie Down Productions,
Judy Mowatt,
Alison Limerick,
Goldenarms,
Sight & Sound,
Kerri Chandler,
Matthew Halsall,
The Trojans,
Cybotron,
Bob Dylan,
Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses.
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.