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 China and from Beijing.
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 Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 sitar 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 Sly & The Family Stone to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Parrish. All the underground hits.
All The Doobie Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lindisfarne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sam Rivers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Shoche,
Eden Ahbez,
The Angels of Light,
Marmalade,
Ice-T,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Severed Heads,
Jeff Lynne,
Howard Jones,
Camouflage,
Leonard Cohen,
Public Image Ltd.,
Minny Pops,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Michelle Simonal,
The Evens,
The Searchers,
Bootsy Collins,
Bob Dylan,
The Toasters,
Masters at Work,
Sight & Sound,
Tres Demented,
Moebius,
Malaria!,
Patti Smith,
Barry Ungar,
Spandau Ballet,
La Düsseldorf,
The Invisible,
Freddie Wadling,
The Misunderstood,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Crispian St. Peters,
Cameo,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Brand Nubian,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Detroit Cobras,
Scratch Acid,
Mantronix,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Marc Almond,
Japan,
Dark Day,
Flash Fearless,
Fatback Band,
Ronan,
Babytalk,
Joey Negro,
Deadbeat,
Barbara Tucker,
The Moleskins,
Yaz,
Underground Resistance,
Lucky Dragons,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Amazonics,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Fall,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow.
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.