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 Singapore and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago to the funk 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 Jeff Lynne. All the underground hits.
All The Doobie Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerrie Biddell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gerry Rafferty record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bill Near,
Suicide,
Excepter,
Radio Birdman,
Electric Prunes,
Panda Bear,
Unwound,
The Leaves,
Marshall Jefferson,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Dirtbombs,
Cluster,
Barclay James Harvest,
Pussy Galore,
Don Cherry,
Crime,
The Five Americans,
L. Decosne,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Maurizio,
EPMD,
MDC,
Faust,
Hardrive,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Residents,
Heaven 17,
Zapp,
Circle Jerks,
Pet Shop Boys,
New Age Steppers,
Niagra,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Andrew Hill,
The Mojo Men,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Rites of Spring,
Metal Thangz,
Severed Heads,
Carl Craig,
the Association,
Underground Resistance,
Todd Rundgren,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Harry Pussy,
Rufus Thomas,
Drexciya,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
cv313,
Althea and Donna,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Grass Roots,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Pop Group,
Nirvana,
Scrapy,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Quando Quango,
Bootsy Collins,
Von Mondo,
Gil Scott Heron,
Cabaret Voltaire, Cabaret Voltaire, Cabaret Voltaire, Cabaret Voltaire.
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.