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 Vietnam and from Delhi.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the marimba 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 The Dave Clark Five to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Jeru the Damaja. All the underground hits.
All Steve Hackett tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harpers Bizarre record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 güiro and an oboe 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 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Neon Judgement,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Parry Music,
Little Man,
Black Moon,
Gabor Szabo,
Fat Boys,
Eli Mardock,
The Dead C,
Sugar Minott,
Vladislav Delay,
Fifty Foot Hose,
ABC,
Khruangbin,
Ronan,
Spoonie Gee,
Glambeats Corp.,
Trumans Water,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Groovy Waters,
Yaz,
Man Eating Sloth,
Buzzcocks,
Deepchord,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Count Five,
Andrew Hill,
Popol Vuh,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Tremeloes,
Wasted Youth,
The Dave Clark Five,
Pagans,
Nas,
Subhumans,
Pylon,
Country Teasers,
Donald Byrd,
Jerry's Kids,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Heaven 17,
Scientists,
Moby Grape,
Silicon Teens,
The Victims,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Rotary Connection,
Sandy B,
Essential Logic,
Flipper,
Severed Heads,
Girls At Our Best!,
Alphaville,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Names,
Goldenarms,
Das Ding,
Steve Hackett,
Circle Jerks,
Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro.
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.