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 Costa Rica and from Mexico City.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 New Christs to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Half Japanese. All the underground hits.
All The Invisible tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra Arkestra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Piero Umiliani record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minny Pops,
Rites of Spring,
Mark Hollis,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sparks,
Smog,
Amon Düül II,
Moss Icon,
Brand Nubian,
Parry Music,
Angry Samoans,
The Five Americans,
Camouflage,
Porter Ricks,
Sight & Sound,
Television Personalities,
Audionom,
Throbbing Gristle,
Gang of Four,
Altered Images,
Swans,
Unwound,
A Flock of Seagulls,
the Germs,
Joey Negro,
Whodini,
Tomorrow,
Chris Corsano,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Traffic Nightmare,
Jeff Mills,
Marvin Gaye,
The American Breed,
Pet Shop Boys,
Fear,
Gichy Dan,
The Barracudas,
Thee Headcoats,
Johnny Clarke,
Panda Bear,
Quadrant,
Ornette Coleman,
Mars,
T.S.O.L.,
Erykah Badu,
Von Mondo,
The Beau Brummels,
Aswad,
Faraquet,
Sällskapet,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Stockholm Monsters,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Gap Band,
Michelle Simonal,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Lyres,
Ralphi Rosario,
Ten City,
Kayak,
Matthew Halsall,
Maleditus Sound,
Television, Television, Television, Television.
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.