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 Liberia 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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Liliput to the punk 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 London Community Gospel Choir. All the underground hits.
All Pierre Henry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lafayette Afro Rock Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rekid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crime,
The Skatalites,
The Raincoats,
Gil Scott Heron,
8 Eyed Spy,
the Association,
Vladislav Delay,
Joensuu 1685,
Monks,
The Fuzztones,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Move,
The Zeros,
Pussy Galore,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Oblivians,
ABC,
Motorama,
Blake Baxter,
Dark Day,
The Names,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Cramps,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
kango's stein massive,
Neil Young,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Kas Product,
Organ,
Black Bananas,
The Blackbyrds,
Prince Buster,
The Mojo Men,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Lou Christie,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sixth Finger,
Todd Rundgren,
Laurel Aitken,
Lee Hazlewood,
Pharoah Sanders,
Erykah Badu,
Minor Threat,
KRS-One,
Mantronix,
The Offenders,
Marc Almond,
Cybotron,
Amon Düül II,
New Age Steppers,
Patti Smith,
The Fugs,
Agitation Free,
Youth Brigade,
Sun Ra,
The American Breed,
Curtis Mayfield,
Rakim,
The Gun Club,
Lalo Schifrin,
Severed Heads,
Rufus Thomas,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine.
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.