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 Chile and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Scrapy to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Boogie Down Productions. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Metal Thangz 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gastr Del Sol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cramps,
Sun City Girls,
Andrew Hill,
Henry Cow,
Crime,
Thee Headcoats,
Black Moon,
Wings,
Mr. Review,
Ten City,
Public Enemy,
Fad Gadget,
Pantaleimon,
Fear,
cv313,
Sandy B,
Scan 7,
10cc,
Smog,
The Happenings,
Jacob Miller,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Intrusion,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Amazonics,
Drive Like Jehu,
Barry Ungar,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Todd Terry,
Scratch Acid,
Deadbeat,
Sam Rivers,
Guru Guru,
Circle Jerks,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Music Machine,
Trumans Water,
The Raincoats,
The Names,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Pop Group,
the Swans,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Ultravox,
Tres Demented,
Unwound,
a-ha,
Minutemen,
The Monochrome Set,
Roxette,
D'Angelo,
The Alarm Clocks,
Groovy Waters,
The Sound,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Talk Talk,
Bluetip,
Lalann,
Wally Richardson,
Blossom Toes,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Tropical Tobacco,
Rosa Yemen,
Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers.
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.