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 Nepal and from Edmonton.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 the Association to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Simply Red. All the underground hits.
All Hoover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cecil Taylor record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blackbyrds,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Kevin Saunderson,
Hashim,
Ohio Players,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The American Breed,
Excepter,
Buzzcocks,
The Sound,
Ossler,
Bill Wells,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gabor Szabo,
Glenn Branca,
Crooked Eye,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Martian,
Faust,
The Invisible,
The Young Rascals,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Henry Cow,
Anthony Braxton,
Sam Rivers,
Derrick Morgan,
Colin Newman,
Vainqueur,
Howard Jones,
Black Moon,
Laurel Aitken,
Schoolly D,
Soulsonic Force,
Josef K,
Tommy Roe,
Stetsasonic,
The Detroit Cobras,
Little Man,
Heaven 17,
Wings,
Gang Starr,
Deepchord,
X-Ray Spex,
Underground Resistance,
Dorothy Ashby,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Derrick May,
Amon Düül,
Scientists,
Wally Richardson,
Moebius,
Idris Muhammad,
Neu!,
Fat Boys,
Leonard Cohen,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Leaves,
Albert Ayler,
Dawn Penn,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Nirvana,
Donny Hathaway,
The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs.
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.