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 Angola and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 clarinet 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 Vladislav Delay to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Johnny Osbourne. All the underground hits.
All the Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythim Is Rhythim 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deadbeat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swell Maps,
Byron Stingily,
China Crisis,
The Busters,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Index,
Circle Jerks,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
John Cale,
Kerri Chandler,
Quadrant,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Motions,
Soft Machine,
Q and Not U,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Radiopuhelimet,
Grauzone,
Yazoo,
Thee Headcoats,
The Happenings,
DJ Sneak,
Scrapy,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Kinks,
Terry Callier,
Reuben Wilson,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Crime,
Josef K,
Duran Duran,
Banda Bassotti,
The Red Krayola,
Arab on Radar,
Nik Kershaw,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Aswad,
Joe Finger,
Lalo Schifrin,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Livin' Joy,
Sällskapet,
Bootsy Collins,
Saccharine Trust,
Bronski Beat,
Glenn Branca,
Sister Nancy,
Cecil Taylor,
The Gun Club,
Black Moon,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Agitation Free,
James White and The Blacks,
The Remains,
The United States of America,
Agent Orange,
Neil Young,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Buzzcocks,
Cheater Slicks,
Avey Tare,
Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich.
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.