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 Cuba 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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Wake to the funk 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 Alice Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All De La Soul & Jungle Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cowsills record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Smog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Whodini,
Severed Heads,
the Swans,
Section 25,
Chris & Cosey,
Jeff Lynne,
Minor Threat,
Swell Maps,
The Associates,
Sugar Minott,
The Barracudas,
the Bar-Kays,
the Association,
Scan 7,
Mission of Burma,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Lou Christie,
The Gun Club,
Popol Vuh,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Names,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Cymande,
Swans,
Surgeon,
Joe Finger,
Radiopuhelimet,
Derrick Morgan,
Harpers Bizarre,
Wolf Eyes,
Motorama,
Tom Boy,
The Dave Clark Five,
Sam Rivers,
Khruangbin,
Eden Ahbez,
Beasts of Bourbon,
the Sonics,
Eddi Front,
Soft Machine,
Goldenarms,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Remains,
Todd Terry,
Moss Icon,
OOIOO,
Animal Collective,
Nirvana,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lindisfarne,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Livin' Joy,
The Moody Blues,
Kayak,
Alphaville,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bobby Byrd,
PIL,
Sister Nancy,
DJ Sneak,
Archie Shepp,
Tres Demented,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green.
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.