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 Tanzania and from Sao Paulo.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the marimba 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 Ultra Naté to the rap 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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All the Germs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Certain Ratio 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Derrick May record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Hutcherson,
The New Christs,
The Fugs,
Girls At Our Best!,
Parry Music,
Oblivians,
The Pretty Things,
Bobby Sherman,
Matthew Bourne,
Terrestrial Tones,
Dave Gahan,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Busters,
The Names,
Prince Buster,
Young Marble Giants,
Blossom Toes,
Avey Tare,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Sun Ra,
Eyeless In Gaza,
R.M.O.,
The Doobie Brothers,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Cowsills,
The Tremeloes,
U.S. Maple,
Barclay James Harvest,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Vogues,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Faraquet,
Easy Going,
Pole,
The Leaves,
Arab on Radar,
Gong,
Smog,
Alison Limerick,
Swans,
Joensuu 1685,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Shoche,
The Dead C,
The Five Americans,
Bobby Womack,
Arthur Verocai,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Agitation Free,
Big Daddy Kane,
Jeru the Damaja,
Pantaleimon,
Stiv Bators,
Eric Copeland,
The Real Kids,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Kaleidoscope,
China Crisis,
Von Mondo,
Crispian St. Peters,
Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode.
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.