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 Solomon Islands and from Hong Kong.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Edmonton.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Bootsy's Rubber Band to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Lalo Schifrin. All the underground hits.
All Cameo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fifty Foot Hose record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Subhumans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barclay James Harvest,
Marshall Jefferson,
Monolake,
Soul Sonic Force,
FM Einheit,
Drexciya,
Derrick May,
June Days,
The Doobie Brothers,
Half Japanese,
Theoretical Girls,
Symarip,
Brothers Johnson,
Mo-Dettes,
A Certain Ratio,
The Standells,
The Golliwogs,
B.T. Express,
ABBA,
Bob Dylan,
Bobby Womack,
John Lydon,
Sexual Harrassment,
D'Angelo,
Susan Cadogan,
The Mojo Men,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Kevin Saunderson,
Radio Birdman,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Moody Blues,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
the Normal,
Kas Product,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Byron Stingily,
Bobby Byrd,
Alice Coltrane,
Unwound,
The Raincoats,
Jandek,
Brass Construction,
DJ Sneak,
Lungfish,
K-Klass,
The Young Rascals,
Kayak,
The Offenders,
The Happenings,
Cameo,
Ronan,
Thee Headcoats,
Arcadia,
Minutemen,
Unrelated Segments,
Ossler,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Vladislav Delay,
Pulsallama,
Easy Going,
Faust,
Royal Trux,
Pussy Galore,
Peter and Kerry, Peter and Kerry, Peter and Kerry, Peter and Kerry.
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.