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 Ecuador and from Shanghai.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Selector Dub Narcotic to the dance 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 The Black Dice. All the underground hits.
All Nirvana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Osbourne 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Residents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Donald Byrd,
June of 44,
Black Sheep,
Rod Modell,
The Raincoats,
The Fuzztones,
Leonard Cohen,
Robert Görl,
John Cale,
Roy Ayers,
Todd Terry,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Das Ding,
Fear,
the Association,
Yazoo,
Matthew Bourne,
Glambeats Corp.,
Jeff Mills,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Golliwogs,
Duran Duran,
Idris Muhammad,
Crime,
The Blackbyrds,
The Gun Club,
Quantec,
Magma,
Boogie Down Productions,
Robert Hood,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Mandrill,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Shoche,
ABC,
Crispian St. Peters,
Deadbeat,
B.T. Express,
Oneida,
The Martian,
Bush Tetras,
Kenny Larkin,
Alison Limerick,
Lou Christie,
Goldenarms,
The Cramps,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Television,
Average White Band,
Electric Prunes,
Zapp,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Davy DMX,
The Black Dice,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Modern Lovers,
The Barracudas,
Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett.
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.