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 Marshall Islands and from Madrid.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Barry Ungar to the funk 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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All The Happenings tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lebanon Hanover record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Young Marble Giants,
Cybotron,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Gang Starr,
The Golliwogs,
The Mighty Diamonds,
New Age Steppers,
Suicide,
Max Romeo,
Todd Rundgren,
the Sonics,
Trumans Water,
Brick,
June of 44,
Ossler,
Jacob Miller,
Sun City Girls,
Newcleus,
The Vogues,
Outsiders,
The Black Dice,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Lou Christie,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Harry Pussy,
The Walker Brothers,
Fela Kuti,
The Pop Group,
Khruangbin,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Deadbeat,
Harpers Bizarre,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Beau Brummels,
Shuggie Otis,
Nik Kershaw,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
the Fania All-Stars,
Arcadia,
Howard Jones,
June Days,
Masters at Work,
Johnny Clarke,
Silicon Teens,
The J.B.'s,
Section 25,
Piero Umiliani,
E-Dancer,
Bluetip,
Blossom Toes,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Skatalites,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Prince Buster,
Spandau Ballet,
Frankie Knuckles,
Porter Ricks,
The Raincoats,
The Last Poets,
Rakim, Rakim, Rakim, Rakim.
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.