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 Somalia 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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Lille.
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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Reuben Wilson to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The J.B.'s. All the underground hits.
All The Jesus and Mary Chain tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Move 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fugazi,
E-Dancer,
The Flesh Eaters,
Matthew Bourne,
Frankie Knuckles,
Prince Buster,
Slave,
Average White Band,
Interpol,
Jeff Mills,
B.T. Express,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Smog,
Surgeon,
Absolute Body Control,
Cluster,
The Evens,
Pulsallama,
John Coltrane,
Rod Modell,
Banda Bassotti,
Barclay James Harvest,
Masters at Work,
Echospace,
Byron Stingily,
Technova,
Gil Scott Heron,
Roy Ayers,
Gichy Dan,
Joe Smooth,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Mojo Men,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
DJ Style,
Sound Behaviour,
Lebanon Hanover,
Unwound,
ABBA,
Franke,
The Barracudas,
Cecil Taylor,
Adolescents,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Saints,
The Mummies,
Faust,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Agitation Free,
The Dead C,
Piero Umiliani,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Happenings,
FM Einheit,
The Pretty Things,
Kenny Larkin,
Alphaville,
Warsaw,
Marvin Gaye,
Joensuu 1685,
The Victims,
Carl Craig,
Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders.
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.