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 Grenada and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Ultra Naté to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Flipper. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Desert Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joy Division record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Schoolly D,
the Normal,
Bill Wells,
L. Decosne,
Eddi Front,
Marshall Jefferson,
Minutemen,
Man Parrish,
Gil Scott Heron,
The New Christs,
X-101,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Matthew Bourne,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Human League,
Roxy Music,
Fat Boys,
Talk Talk,
Eve St. Jones,
E-Dancer,
Jerry's Kids,
Motorama,
Leonard Cohen,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Evens,
Joe Smooth,
The Techniques,
Groovy Waters,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Gun Club,
Yusef Lateef,
The Golliwogs,
Little Man,
Desert Stars,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Pagans,
Lindisfarne,
Crispy Ambulance,
Faraquet,
Janne Schatter,
Peter & Gordon,
AZ,
Susan Cadogan,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Count Five,
Robert Wyatt,
Deadbeat,
8 Eyed Spy,
Ludus,
Danielle Patucci,
Tears for Fears,
Saccharine Trust,
Prince Buster,
Scratch Acid,
Sun City Girls,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Dead Boys,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Bobby Hutcherson,
DNA,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Swans,
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.