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 Botswana and from Mexico City.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Main Source to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Byron Stingily. All the underground hits.
All Soulsonic Force tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wings record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Main Source,
The Detroit Cobras,
Ludus,
Youth Brigade,
The Doors,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Names,
Tears for Fears,
Livin' Joy,
Jawbox,
Connie Case,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bad Manners,
Crooked Eye,
Henry Cow,
Nick Fraelich,
D'Angelo,
Sex Pistols,
Warsaw,
One Last Wish,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Althea and Donna,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Albert Ayler,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Arcadia,
Gang Starr,
Todd Rundgren,
Danielle Patucci,
Young Marble Giants,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Black Pus,
The Divine Comedy,
Bronski Beat,
The Dead C,
Alison Limerick,
The Index,
Kerrie Biddell,
Frankie Knuckles,
Talk Talk,
Pere Ubu,
Roger Hodgson,
The Busters,
Shoche,
The Trojans,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
June of 44,
The Offenders,
Altered Images,
Slick Rick,
The Toasters,
Tom Boy,
Joensuu 1685,
Smog,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Essential Logic,
Flash Fearless,
Iggy Pop,
Sun Ra,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Urselle,
New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers.
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.