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 Comoros and from Philadelphia.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Trojans. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bad Manners record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Parry Music record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crash Course in Science,
Goldenarms,
Intrusion,
Desert Stars,
the Germs,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Deakin,
AZ,
Matthew Bourne,
Aloha Tigers,
Scott Walker,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Piero Umiliani,
Aaron Thompson,
The Sound,
Eurythmics,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Lindisfarne,
Roy Ayers,
Susan Cadogan,
Skarface,
Interpol,
Eric B and Rakim,
Graham Central Station,
Organ,
Banda Bassotti,
Pole,
the Sonics,
Easy Going,
Bobby Sherman,
Glambeats Corp.,
Marc Almond,
UT,
Alton Ellis,
10cc,
Alison Limerick,
Andrew Hill,
Ken Boothe,
The Trojans,
Zapp,
Bill Wells,
The Black Dice,
Metal Thangz,
Althea and Donna,
Don Cherry,
Ossler,
Panda Bear,
the Human League,
Traffic Nightmare,
H. Thieme,
The Human League,
The Victims,
Clear Light,
The Dirtbombs,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Hasil Adkins,
Drexciya,
Rekid,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Boogie Down Productions,
Negative Approach, Negative Approach, Negative Approach, Negative Approach.
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.