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 Kiribati and from Tehran.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Pantytec to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Warren Ellis. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Parrish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 mellotron and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mission of Burma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
Ituana,
the Association,
Scion,
Fat Boys,
Sex Pistols,
Eli Mardock,
The Divine Comedy,
Archie Shepp,
Minor Threat,
Unrelated Segments,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Au Pairs,
Section 25,
New Order,
Harmonia,
Agitation Free,
Nation of Ulysses,
Ralphi Rosario,
The New Christs,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Velvet Underground,
Simply Red,
Nick Fraelich,
Barry Ungar,
Camouflage,
Arab on Radar,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sun City Girls,
Con Funk Shun,
Television Personalities,
Pharoah Sanders,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Popol Vuh,
Sister Nancy,
Anakelly,
Stiv Bators,
China Crisis,
The Zeros,
Nico,
Sun Ra,
The Moody Blues,
The Fortunes,
Adolescents,
Nas,
Tim Buckley,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Seeds,
Faust,
The Beau Brummels,
10cc,
DJ Style,
These Immortal Souls,
Robert Wyatt,
Patti Smith,
The Barracudas,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Nirvana,
Piero Umiliani,
Underground Resistance,
Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid.
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.