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 Benin and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Whodini to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Chris Corsano. All the underground hits.
All Monolake tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smiths 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Art Ensemble Of Chicago record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sandy B,
Rekid,
The Smiths,
Man Eating Sloth,
These Immortal Souls,
The Barracudas,
Sexual Harrassment,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Kerrie Biddell,
Cymande,
the Sonics,
Barclay James Harvest,
Eric B and Rakim,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Wasted Youth,
Aural Exciters,
The Sonics,
Nik Kershaw,
Deakin,
Goldenarms,
Royal Trux,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Trumans Water,
The Doobie Brothers,
Sun City Girls,
Second Layer,
Barry Ungar,
MDC,
Echospace,
Lalann,
Barbara Tucker,
Fear,
June of 44,
The Monks,
David Bowie,
Ice-T,
Drexciya,
Slick Rick,
Pulsallama,
the Soft Cell,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Minnie Riperton,
Fat Boys,
Model 500,
The Stooges,
Idris Muhammad,
Gang of Four,
The Gladiators,
E-Dancer,
F. McDonald,
The Fall,
Stetsasonic,
Pylon,
Graham Central Station,
Sixth Finger,
Minor Threat,
Bill Wells,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Roxy Music,
Hardrive,
Arthur Verocai,
Laurel Aitken,
Livin' Joy,
Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape.
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.