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 Equatorial Guinea and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and New York.
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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Schoolly D to the jazz 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 Slick Rick. All the underground hits.
All Fatback Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultimate Spinach 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Beau Brummels record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Real Kids,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Charles Mingus,
Agent Orange,
Cal Tjader,
The Cramps,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Sound,
Symarip,
Black Moon,
Kaleidoscope,
Tres Demented,
Porter Ricks,
Steve Hackett,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Evens,
Scion,
Magazine,
Maleditus Sound,
Parry Music,
Agitation Free,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
10cc,
X-Ray Spex,
Aswad,
Monks,
The Modern Lovers,
Severed Heads,
the Association,
The New Christs,
David Bowie,
Deadbeat,
Goldenarms,
Black Flag,
Janne Schatter,
Arab on Radar,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Tubeway Army,
Grauzone,
Derrick Morgan,
Jeru the Damaja,
Scan 7,
Andrew Hill,
Sonny Sharrock,
Gregory Isaacs,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Bauhaus,
Shuggie Otis,
Half Japanese,
Harry Pussy,
Wire,
Terry Callier,
Accadde A,
Robert Görl,
Popol Vuh,
Television,
Cluster,
Fad Gadget,
Jandek,
Soft Machine,
The Alarm Clocks,
Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor.
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.