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 Netherlands and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 spring reverb 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 Albert Ayler to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Television Personalities. All the underground hits.
All Gong tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every UT record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 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 a-ha record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
Wally Richardson,
David Axelrod,
The Black Dice,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Star Department,
Stiv Bators,
Kevin Saunderson,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Electric Prunes,
Hoover,
The Golliwogs,
Swans,
Soft Cell,
Deadbeat,
Susan Cadogan,
Buzzcocks,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Real Kids,
Grandmaster Flash,
Jeff Mills,
Danielle Patucci,
Gong,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Kerrie Biddell,
Isaac Hayes,
Nico,
Eric Dolphy,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Joyce Sims,
Aaron Thompson,
Shuggie Otis,
Oneida,
Graham Central Station,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sandy B,
Marvin Gaye,
Subhumans,
Brothers Johnson,
Brass Construction,
The Smoke,
Pierre Henry,
Ronan,
The Kinks,
David McCallum,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
June of 44,
Harry Pussy,
Eric Copeland,
Adolescents,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Selecter,
Neil Young,
Arcadia,
Public Image Ltd.,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Gladiators,
The Barracudas,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Aswad, Aswad, Aswad, Aswad.
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.