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 Malawi and from Copenhagen.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 The Cosmic Jokers to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Yusef Lateef. All the underground hits.
All Ralphi Rosario tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Barracudas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Visage,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Mad Mike,
Organ,
Junior Murvin,
Porter Ricks,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Barry Ungar,
David Axelrod,
Gerry Rafferty,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Blake Baxter,
Ralphi Rosario,
Bobby Sherman,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Fuzztones,
Sonic Youth,
Gang of Four,
The Leaves,
Rosa Yemen,
Marshall Jefferson,
Nils Olav,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Flipper,
Barbara Tucker,
Harpers Bizarre,
Nik Kershaw,
Cameo,
Intrusion,
Jacob Miller,
Black Flag,
Minnie Riperton,
The Toasters,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Mo-Dettes,
Unrelated Segments,
Byron Stingily,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Pole,
Y Pants,
Quadrant,
Yazoo,
Soul Sonic Force,
Tears for Fears,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Supertramp,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Shadows of Knight,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Althea and Donna,
Mission of Burma,
Dawn Penn,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Fela Kuti,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
UT,
Cheater Slicks,
X-102,
Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti.
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.