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 Monaco and from Woodstock.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 David Bowie to the disco 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 Fugazi. All the underground hits.
All Scientists tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fifty Foot Hose record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Sneak,
Minnie Riperton,
Alison Limerick,
Aswad,
The Angels of Light,
Nick Fraelich,
Arcadia,
Neu!,
Reuben Wilson,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Black Dice,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Average White Band,
Ralphi Rosario,
Wolf Eyes,
Joensuu 1685,
Judy Mowatt,
Sällskapet,
Blancmange,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Whodini,
Janne Schatter,
Technova,
The Blues Magoos,
Mr. Review,
Peter & Gordon,
Soul Sonic Force,
Wally Richardson,
London Community Gospel Choir,
EPMD,
Girls At Our Best!,
Skriet,
Moebius,
Quando Quango,
Newcleus,
Pussy Galore,
Unrelated Segments,
Ituana,
Harry Pussy,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Names,
Sex Pistols,
Matthew Bourne,
Mary Jane Girls,
Derrick Morgan,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Roger Hodgson,
Letta Mbulu,
Tim Buckley,
Rufus Thomas,
Bronski Beat,
Eric B and Rakim,
Metal Thangz,
Fear,
Fatback Band,
Suburban Knight,
Traffic Nightmare,
Glenn Branca,
The Residents,
Marshall Jefferson,
Lalann, Lalann, Lalann, Lalann.
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.