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 Lithuania and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Donald Fagen 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 Sun Ra Arkestra to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Black Pus. All the underground hits.
All Rosa Yemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Spoonie Gee record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a D'Angelo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monks,
Sparks,
The Monks,
Radiohead,
Ronnie Foster,
Kas Product,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Brick,
Lou Reed,
Crispian St. Peters,
Eli Mardock,
Lee Hazlewood,
Susan Cadogan,
Althea and Donna,
Marvin Gaye,
Gerry Rafferty,
Crime,
Cheater Slicks,
Inner City,
Drive Like Jehu,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Barclay James Harvest,
kango's stein massive,
Byron Stingily,
Pantaleimon,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Q and Not U,
Tubeway Army,
Maleditus Sound,
Joe Finger,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Ronan,
F. McDonald,
Tomorrow,
Bootsy Collins,
Juan Atkins,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Alarm Clocks,
Surgeon,
The Evens,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Negative Approach,
Eddi Front,
Steve Hackett,
Ultravox,
Hot Snakes,
Robert Hood,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Skaos,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Josef K,
Thee Headcoats,
cv313,
Shuggie Otis,
Minor Threat,
The Index,
Matthew Bourne,
Idris Muhammad,
The Five Americans,
Lower 48,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Section 25,
Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones.
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.