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 India and from Woodstock.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 David Bowie 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 Terry Callier to the funk 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 Wire. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Raincoats 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 Ice-T record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fela Kuti,
Television,
Donny Hathaway,
Joy Division,
Popol Vuh,
Byron Stingily,
Pet Shop Boys,
Sun City Girls,
Gang Gang Dance,
Smog,
Gichy Dan,
The J.B.'s,
Derrick Morgan,
David Axelrod,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Gabor Szabo,
Vladislav Delay,
the Fania All-Stars,
Erasure,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Harry Pussy,
the Human League,
The Doors,
Sound Behaviour,
Groovy Waters,
John Lydon,
Sparks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Durutti Column,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Moody Blues,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Michelle Simonal,
the Bar-Kays,
Avey Tare,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ohio Players,
Laurel Aitken,
Crooked Eye,
Jacques Brel,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sandy B,
Robert Hood,
Alton Ellis,
Infiniti,
Wire,
Monks,
Drive Like Jehu,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
DNA,
The Fortunes,
Bootsy Collins,
Youth Brigade,
One Last Wish,
Crispian St. Peters,
Piero Umiliani,
The Sonics,
Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat.
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.