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 Micronesia and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 arpeggiator 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 Rakim to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Charles Mingus. All the underground hits.
All Funky Four + One tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every AZ record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scan 7 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Techniques,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Little Man,
Roxette,
Fad Gadget,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Scratch Acid,
Youth Brigade,
Arthur Verocai,
Roxy Music,
The Blues Magoos,
Fela Kuti,
New Age Steppers,
Vladislav Delay,
Porter Ricks,
Ken Boothe,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Shadows of Knight,
Sonny Sharrock,
Young Marble Giants,
Flamin' Groovies,
Guru Guru,
Kayak,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Radiohead,
Gang Starr,
Sex Pistols,
Jawbox,
Y Pants,
Lebanon Hanover,
Yellowson,
K-Klass,
Rosa Yemen,
Public Enemy,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Real Kids,
Fugazi,
Robert Wyatt,
June Days,
Hoover,
Jeff Lynne,
Isaac Hayes,
Gang of Four,
B.T. Express,
The Alarm Clocks,
Circle Jerks,
Von Mondo,
The Cramps,
The Skatalites,
Hot Snakes,
Curtis Mayfield,
T.S.O.L.,
The Flesh Eaters,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
F. McDonald,
cv313,
Black Sheep,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
June of 44,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds.
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.