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 Guyana and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Cymande to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 8 Eyed Spy. All the underground hits.
All Country Joe & The Fish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed & Metallica 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Walker Brothers,
Jacob Miller,
Cheater Slicks,
Youth Brigade,
Jesper Dahlback,
Archie Shepp,
These Immortal Souls,
New Order,
JFA,
Ultra Naté,
The Doors,
The Vogues,
The Evens,
Nik Kershaw,
Joensuu 1685,
Spandau Ballet,
Ten City,
Stockholm Monsters,
Pylon,
Gang Starr,
Flamin' Groovies,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Soul II Soul,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Kurtis Blow,
Bill Wells,
Half Japanese,
Gerry Rafferty,
Bronski Beat,
Q65,
Royal Trux,
Robert Görl,
Goldenarms,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ronnie Foster,
Gichy Dan,
Funkadelic,
Con Funk Shun,
The Knickerbockers,
The Electric Prunes,
Matthew Bourne,
Donny Hathaway,
Gang Gang Dance,
Ohio Players,
The Fire Engines,
cv313,
Piero Umiliani,
Neu!,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Blake Baxter,
Robert Wyatt,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
New Age Steppers,
Traffic Nightmare,
Whodini,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Shoche,
L. Decosne,
Avey Tare,
Todd Rundgren,
Minnie Riperton,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.