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 Germany and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 David Bowie 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 Heavy D & The Boyz to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Nas. All the underground hits.
All Spoonie Gee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharoah Sanders record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Khruangbin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crime,
Eddi Front,
10cc,
Fear,
Masters at Work,
The Index,
Dorothy Ashby,
Cymande,
Davy DMX,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
H. Thieme,
Charles Mingus,
Camouflage,
Bobby Byrd,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Black Pus,
Deepchord,
Robert Görl,
Essential Logic,
Depeche Mode,
Terry Callier,
Sun Ra,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Cal Tjader,
The Music Machine,
Pierre Henry,
Lower 48,
The Dirtbombs,
Bobby Womack,
X-102,
Kool Moe Dee,
Derrick May,
Suicide,
Scientists,
Y Pants,
The Cowsills,
Pole,
Magazine,
Symarip,
John Holt,
Dennis Brown,
The Invisible,
Bluetip,
Supertramp,
Stereo Dub,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Zapp,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Frankie Knuckles,
Neu!,
The Misunderstood,
Lightning Bolt,
cv313,
Banda Bassotti,
Johnny Osbourne,
Ossler,
Black Flag,
Joensuu 1685,
The Litter,
Subhumans,
Crooked Eye,
Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim.
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.