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 London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Flipper to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Eric Copeland. All the underground hits.
All Pharoah Sanders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Grass Roots 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Real Kids,
John Cale,
Boz Scaggs,
Frankie Knuckles,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Cameo,
Marshall Jefferson,
Donald Byrd,
Quadrant,
Scott Walker,
John Foxx,
Mars,
The Remains,
Trumans Water,
Jacques Brel,
The Monochrome Set,
Pantytec,
The Evens,
Dennis Brown,
Desert Stars,
The Wake,
The Gap Band,
Josef K,
New Order,
Scientists,
Moby Grape,
Marc Almond,
Sly & The Family Stone,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
The Slackers,
The Saints,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Sound,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Kayak,
Eric B and Rakim,
Matthew Bourne,
Scan 7,
Rosa Yemen,
Metal Thangz,
The New Christs,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Pagans,
DNA,
The Leaves,
Jerry's Kids,
The Index,
Lakeside,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
B.T. Express,
Aaron Thompson,
June of 44,
Index,
Rod Modell,
Nik Kershaw,
UT,
Intrusion,
Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy.
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.