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 Poland and from London.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 John Holt to the punk 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 Negative Approach. All the underground hits.
All David Bowie tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Techniques 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Funkadelic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Saints,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Loose Ends,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Parry Music,
Grey Daturas,
Graham Central Station,
Juan Atkins,
Kevin Saunderson,
D'Angelo,
Jacob Miller,
Isaac Hayes,
Urselle,
The Moleskins,
Monks,
Barbara Tucker,
Maleditus Sound,
The Index,
Swell Maps,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Leonard Cohen,
Young Marble Giants,
Yaz,
Organ,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Rosa Yemen,
Jeru the Damaja,
Toni Rubio,
the Bar-Kays,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Johnny Osbourne,
Index,
Derrick May,
Hot Snakes,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Reuben Wilson,
Drexciya,
Lucky Dragons,
John Cale,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Mantronix,
The Names,
Archie Shepp,
The Divine Comedy,
The Leaves,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Letta Mbulu,
Alphaville,
Soul Sonic Force,
Lou Christie,
Warren Ellis,
Tim Buckley,
Marcia Griffiths,
Curtis Mayfield,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Offenders,
Alison Limerick,
Hasil Adkins,
Kayak, Kayak, Kayak, Kayak.
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.