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 Montenegro and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the techno 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 Harry Pussy. All the underground hits.
All Echo & the Bunnymen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Hill record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Moleskins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moby Grape,
Yaz,
Aural Exciters,
Donald Byrd,
Nico,
Deakin,
Easy Going,
Ludus,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Nation of Ulysses,
Wolf Eyes,
Janne Schatter,
Procol Harum,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Ultimate Spinach,
Shuggie Otis,
Skaos,
Pole,
Pere Ubu,
Scott Walker,
Aswad,
Derrick May,
Pulsallama,
Grey Daturas,
Josef K,
Zero Boys,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Kool Moe Dee,
Bobby Sherman,
Eric Dolphy,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Jesper Dahlback,
Crime,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Mojo Men,
Charles Mingus,
Jerry's Kids,
Con Funk Shun,
Colin Newman,
Gong,
Barry Ungar,
London Community Gospel Choir,
New Order,
Mr. Review,
Traffic Nightmare,
Wally Richardson,
John Cale,
Roger Hodgson,
Ponytail,
Byron Stingily,
PIL,
Rakim,
Robert Görl,
Robert Hood,
Pierre Henry,
Outsiders,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Grauzone,
The Alarm Clocks,
Kaleidoscope,
Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims.
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.