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 Argentina and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Porter Ricks to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Surgeon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Public Enemy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wally Richardson,
Wolf Eyes,
Surgeon,
Glenn Branca,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
cv313,
Marine Girls,
Robert Görl,
Circle Jerks,
Ralphi Rosario,
Second Layer,
Quadrant,
Ultimate Spinach,
Albert Ayler,
The Leaves,
Man Parrish,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Birthday Party,
The Moleskins,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Byron Stingily,
The Sonics,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Motorama,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Kinks,
LL Cool J,
Terry Callier,
Swell Maps,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Blues Magoos,
The Cowsills,
The Alarm Clocks,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Move,
X-Ray Spex,
Don Cherry,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
EPMD,
The Smiths,
The Angels of Light,
La Düsseldorf,
Alison Limerick,
Sällskapet,
The Techniques,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Eden Ahbez,
Newcleus,
Drive Like Jehu,
Sugar Minott,
Lee Hazlewood,
Toni Rubio,
Matthew Halsall,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Livin' Joy,
Stereo Dub,
Jimmy McGriff,
Frankie Knuckles,
Agent Orange,
The Litter,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne.
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.