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 Syria and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Glenn Branca to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Con Funk Shun. All the underground hits.
All Junior Murvin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ajijia Myrayebe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scrapy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Easy Going,
Ponytail,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Angry Samoans,
Bad Manners,
Deadbeat,
Heaven 17,
Crispian St. Peters,
Marvin Gaye,
E-Dancer,
Suburban Knight,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Pop Group,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Evens,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Gories,
Buzzcocks,
Scan 7,
Sugar Minott,
Stetsasonic,
Rufus Thomas,
Tommy Roe,
The Happenings,
Skarface,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bush Tetras,
Joensuu 1685,
Reuben Wilson,
Livin' Joy,
Michelle Simonal,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Slits,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Second Layer,
Roxette,
Panda Bear,
Popol Vuh,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Tremeloes,
The Toasters,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Wolf Eyes,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Depeche Mode,
Spoonie Gee,
Eli Mardock,
Black Moon,
48th St. Collective,
The Selecter,
Radiohead,
Radio Birdman,
The American Breed,
The Dirtbombs,
Crash Course in Science,
Cybotron,
Flash Fearless,
KRS-One,
Althea and Donna,
the Slits,
Vaughan Mason & Crew, Vaughan Mason & Crew, Vaughan Mason & Crew, Vaughan Mason & Crew.
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.