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 Peru and from Tehran.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 Avey Tare to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Derrick May. All the underground hits.
All the Association tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a a-ha record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Byron Stingily,
Pussy Galore,
Intrusion,
Television Personalities,
Schoolly D,
Connie Case,
Zapp,
John Coltrane,
Grey Daturas,
Procol Harum,
Newcleus,
Section 25,
Toni Rubio,
Public Enemy,
Dennis Brown,
Outsiders,
Ultimate Spinach,
Bang On A Can,
A Certain Ratio,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Smoke,
Eric B and Rakim,
Zero Boys,
Youth Brigade,
Mission of Burma,
The Moody Blues,
Q and Not U,
David Bowie,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Albert Ayler,
Stockholm Monsters,
Parry Music,
CMW,
Bill Near,
Average White Band,
Prince Buster,
The Monks,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Charles Mingus,
Ronan,
Crispian St. Peters,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Iggy Pop,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Warren Ellis,
The Slits,
Fugazi,
Soul II Soul,
Big Daddy Kane,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Al Stewart,
Porter Ricks,
Nils Olav,
Sixth Finger,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Kurtis Blow,
Lucky Dragons,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Gories,
The Busters,
DJ Style,
Soul Sonic Force,
Amon Düül, Amon Düül, Amon Düül, Amon Düül.
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.