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 Serbia and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Camouflage to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Mission of Burma. All the underground hits.
All Porter Ricks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lightning Bolt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Qualms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scientists,
Hot Snakes,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Talk Talk,
Jerry's Kids,
Thee Headcoats,
The Kinks,
Kenny Larkin,
Fort Wilson Riot,
June of 44,
The Beau Brummels,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Saints,
James White and The Blacks,
Chris Corsano,
Lindisfarne,
Eric Copeland,
Sällskapet,
Inner City,
Minnie Riperton,
Zero Boys,
Dark Day,
The Pretty Things,
Malaria!,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Kas Product,
Danielle Patucci,
Scott Walker,
Brothers Johnson,
Ultra Naté,
Delon & Dalcan,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Flesh Eaters,
Alice Coltrane,
The Knickerbockers,
Pagans,
The Sonics,
The Real Kids,
Aloha Tigers,
Ohio Players,
Motorama,
8 Eyed Spy,
Black Bananas,
Qualms,
John Foxx,
Das Ding,
Rapeman,
Schoolly D,
the Normal,
Ice-T,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bootsy Collins,
Ken Boothe,
Sandy B,
Swell Maps,
Kevin Saunderson,
Sexual Harrassment,
Faraquet,
The Gories,
JFA,
Los Fastidios,
Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton.
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.