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 Senegal and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 marimba 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 X-101 to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Boredoms. All the underground hits.
All The Blues Magoos 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 dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Public Image Ltd. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Hutcherson,
a-ha,
The Index,
Pierre Henry,
Dennis Brown,
The Alarm Clocks,
Eric Copeland,
Thee Headcoats,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Joy Division,
Rakim,
Loose Ends,
Franke,
Scan 7,
DNA,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bobby Byrd,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Cymande,
Amon Düül,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Erykah Badu,
Tres Demented,
Reagan Youth,
These Immortal Souls,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Clear Light,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Delta 5,
The Skatalites,
Leonard Cohen,
Kool Moe Dee,
Camouflage,
Tim Buckley,
Darondo,
Black Flag,
Max Romeo,
E-Dancer,
Spoonie Gee,
F. McDonald,
John Cale,
Ultra Naté,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Marshall Jefferson,
Crispian St. Peters,
Fat Boys,
Unrelated Segments,
Charles Mingus,
Henry Cow,
KRS-One,
Adolescents,
Piero Umiliani,
Sällskapet,
Danielle Patucci,
MDC,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Residents,
Simply Red,
Spandau Ballet,
Das Ding,
LL Cool J,
Moss Icon,
U.S. Maple,
Toni Rubio,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.