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 Nicaragua and from Tokyo.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Johannesburg.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Reagan Youth to the techno 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band. All the underground hits.
All Harpers Bizarre tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scientists record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Das Ding record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Underground Resistance,
Crash Course in Science,
Niagra,
Urselle,
Ultimate Spinach,
Robert Görl,
E-Dancer,
Sandy B,
Marshall Jefferson,
Kurtis Blow,
The Kinks,
Absolute Body Control,
Albert Ayler,
The Doors,
Yazoo,
Subhumans,
Eden Ahbez,
Anthony Braxton,
Boogie Down Productions,
Tres Demented,
The United States of America,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Yellowson,
Rites of Spring,
Camouflage,
Nick Fraelich,
Eve St. Jones,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Golliwogs,
Grey Daturas,
Steve Hackett,
Pierre Henry,
Gil Scott Heron,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Man Parrish,
Eric B and Rakim,
Oblivians,
Thompson Twins,
Index,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Mark Hollis,
Davy DMX,
Neil Young,
Crooked Eye,
Robert Hood,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Talk Talk,
Black Bananas,
Terrestrial Tones,
Avey Tare,
Accadde A,
Gang Green,
The Martian,
Electric Prunes,
Arcadia,
The Moody Blues,
Infiniti,
Rufus Thomas,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Los Fastidios,
Mr. Review,
The Cowsills, The Cowsills, The Cowsills, The Cowsills.
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.