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 Nicaragua and from Copenhagen.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the güiro 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 Terrestrial Tones to the techno 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 Desert Stars. All the underground hits.
All Hashim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Newcleus 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Khruangbin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roxy Music,
Blancmange,
Liliput,
Gang Starr,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Archie Shepp,
The Associates,
Electric Prunes,
Simply Red,
The Grass Roots,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Thee Headcoats,
Magma,
Ronnie Foster,
Joey Negro,
Von Mondo,
U.S. Maple,
The Moleskins,
Severed Heads,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Fela Kuti,
Skaos,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Fort Wilson Riot,
the Soft Cell,
Ituana,
Eddi Front,
The Black Dice,
Soulsonic Force,
Jeff Lynne,
Mantronix,
Godley & Creme,
Camouflage,
Siglo XX,
Guru Guru,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Deakin,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
F. McDonald,
The Gun Club,
Nils Olav,
The Gap Band,
The Victims,
Tommy Roe,
Fear,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Crispian St. Peters,
Jacob Miller,
The United States of America,
EPMD,
Barbara Tucker,
Heaven 17,
Rod Modell,
Blake Baxter,
Bobby Womack,
Harry Pussy,
Roy Ayers,
Maleditus Sound,
Brass Construction,
Wings,
Flash Fearless,
New York Dolls,
The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks.
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.