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 Grenada and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 arpeggiator 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 Mary Jane Girls to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Minutemen. All the underground hits.
All Lafayette Afro Rock Band 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 techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Sneak,
Barry Ungar,
Gang Starr,
Iggy Pop,
Pere Ubu,
The Searchers,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Bauhaus,
the Sonics,
Brothers Johnson,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Five Americans,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Litter,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Matthew Bourne,
Gabor Szabo,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Dave Gahan,
MDC,
Public Enemy,
Lalo Schifrin,
Eli Mardock,
The Detroit Cobras,
K-Klass,
Bizarre Inc.,
Essential Logic,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Charles Mingus,
Electric Prunes,
Brick,
Sight & Sound,
Amon Düül,
Depeche Mode,
Mo-Dettes,
Aural Exciters,
Bobby Sherman,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Can,
Sparks,
Blossom Toes,
Idris Muhammad,
Reagan Youth,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Mad Mike,
UT,
Glambeats Corp.,
Duran Duran,
Soulsonic Force,
David McCallum,
Robert Görl,
The Busters,
Hoover,
The Dirtbombs,
8 Eyed Spy,
Eddi Front,
The United States of America,
JFA,
Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!.
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.