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 Kazakhstan and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago to the punk 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 Janne Schatter. All the underground hits.
All Au Pairs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a 808 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 organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blossom Toes,
10cc,
Jeff Mills,
Glenn Branca,
Robert Hood,
Rosa Yemen,
H. Thieme,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Harpers Bizarre,
Pulsallama,
Arthur Verocai,
Quantec,
Reuben Wilson,
CMW,
Flipper,
Pharoah Sanders,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Suicide,
Gichy Dan,
Jeru the Damaja,
James White and The Blacks,
Sam Rivers,
Quando Quango,
Soft Machine,
The Selecter,
Sister Nancy,
Eric B and Rakim,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Man Parrish,
Crispian St. Peters,
Isaac Hayes,
Quadrant,
The Litter,
Arab on Radar,
Lou Christie,
Schoolly D,
AZ,
Camouflage,
Sixth Finger,
Juan Atkins,
Bang On A Can,
Blancmange,
R.M.O.,
Pere Ubu,
Morten Harket,
The Modern Lovers,
The Smoke,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Mark Hollis,
Excepter,
Marcia Griffiths,
Pole,
Bill Near,
Lower 48,
Danielle Patucci,
The Moody Blues,
the Fania All-Stars,
the Normal,
David Bowie,
The Evens,
Marshall Jefferson,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion.
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.