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 Sweden and from Cairo.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Jawbox to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Sonics. All the underground hits.
All Faraquet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wasted Youth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Index,
Magma,
Intrusion,
Man Parrish,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Sonny Sharrock,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Kevin Saunderson,
Nas,
The Gories,
Cecil Taylor,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bizarre Inc.,
Pylon,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Tres Demented,
Roy Ayers,
The Cure,
Pharoah Sanders,
Rosa Yemen,
Eli Mardock,
The Raincoats,
Ludus,
The Techniques,
David Axelrod,
Black Pus,
Hashim,
Josef K,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Durutti Column,
Neil Young,
MDC,
Danielle Patucci,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Avey Tare,
La Düsseldorf,
Idris Muhammad,
Slick Rick,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Marmalade,
Accadde A,
Robert Wyatt,
Bobby Womack,
Barbara Tucker,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Audionom,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Soft Machine,
Todd Rundgren,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Dorothy Ashby,
Los Fastidios,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Agitation Free,
Carl Craig,
The United States of America,
Zapp,
Cal Tjader,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Moebius,
Pagans,
Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus.
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.