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 Paraguay and from Bremen.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Depeche Mode to the funk 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All DJ Style tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lee Hazlewood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Harmonia,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Quadrant,
Metal Thangz,
Sight & Sound,
Black Bananas,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Saints,
10cc,
Tres Demented,
Joyce Sims,
Siglo XX,
Deakin,
The Young Rascals,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gang of Four,
Desert Stars,
Drive Like Jehu,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Robert Görl,
Tubeway Army,
Minny Pops,
Bronski Beat,
The Pretty Things,
Sixth Finger,
Inner City,
Zapp,
Panda Bear,
KRS-One,
Malaria!,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Durutti Column,
Stereo Dub,
The Move,
The Birthday Party,
The New Christs,
Suburban Knight,
Goldenarms,
Monks,
Gastr Del Sol,
Funky Four + One,
Lalo Schifrin,
Mantronix,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
James White and The Blacks,
Lou Christie,
Ultimate Spinach,
Hardrive,
Nas,
Dark Day,
Kaleidoscope,
Section 25,
Rakim,
The Fugs,
Crooked Eye,
The American Breed,
Radiohead,
Chrome,
K-Klass,
Dave Gahan,
Fort Wilson Riot, Fort Wilson Riot, Fort Wilson Riot, Fort Wilson Riot.
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.