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 Mongolia and from Paris.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Pop Group to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 48th St. Collective. All the underground hits.
All Funky Four + One tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Flag 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pierre Henry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Don Cherry,
La Düsseldorf,
Rotary Connection,
The Mojo Men,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Scientists,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Albert Ayler,
Von Mondo,
The Vogues,
Groovy Waters,
Bill Near,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Divine Comedy,
JFA,
Electric Prunes,
Main Source,
Derrick May,
Icehouse,
Moss Icon,
Man Parrish,
John Coltrane,
U.S. Maple,
the Fania All-Stars,
Pylon,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Black Pus,
The Smoke,
The Victims,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The J.B.'s,
Lucky Dragons,
X-102,
The Flesh Eaters,
Yellowson,
Sällskapet,
Aaron Thompson,
Mary Jane Girls,
LL Cool J,
The Blues Magoos,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Max Romeo,
Moby Grape,
Flash Fearless,
Pussy Galore,
Technova,
Rufus Thomas,
Brand Nubian,
Nils Olav,
Pagans,
Tim Buckley,
Sun Ra,
Gang Green,
The Standells,
EPMD,
Lebanon Hanover,
Lindisfarne,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
the Swans,
John Holt,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Brothers Johnson,
The Pretty Things,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five.
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.