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 Monaco and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 guitar 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 Gil Scott Heron to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 John Cale. All the underground hits.
All The Residents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers Ubiquity record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kevin Saunderson,
UT,
F. McDonald,
Accadde A,
Avey Tare,
Second Layer,
Stetsasonic,
Black Sheep,
Spoonie Gee,
Drexciya,
Slick Rick,
Infiniti,
Organ,
Crime,
Blake Baxter,
The Cramps,
The Velvet Underground,
Anakelly,
Sandy B,
Joensuu 1685,
Metal Thangz,
Eden Ahbez,
Loose Ends,
Roger Hodgson,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
David Bowie,
Skaos,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Roy Ayers,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Donny Hathaway,
The Neon Judgement,
Barrington Levy,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Electric Prunes,
the Normal,
Duran Duran,
Yusef Lateef,
Eddi Front,
The Standells,
Jacques Brel,
Symarip,
The Walker Brothers,
The Angels of Light,
Can,
Bobby Womack,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Birthday Party,
X-Ray Spex,
Letta Mbulu,
Mark Hollis,
Eyeless In Gaza,
48th St. Collective,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Eric Copeland,
Patti Smith,
Country Joe & The Fish,
June of 44,
The Monks,
Das Ding,
Fugazi,
Quando Quango,
Barclay James Harvest,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.