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 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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Star Department to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All Henry Cow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fad Gadget 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang of Four record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Toasters,
Fugazi,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Desert Stars,
Metal Thangz,
Barry Ungar,
Accadde A,
Arcadia,
Monks,
Avey Tare,
Barclay James Harvest,
UT,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Kerrie Biddell,
Magma,
Faust,
Rufus Thomas,
Basic Channel,
the Bar-Kays,
Marmalade,
Matthew Bourne,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Minutemen,
Tropical Tobacco,
Adolescents,
Lou Christie,
Eve St. Jones,
the Normal,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Drexciya,
Excepter,
The Divine Comedy,
The Grass Roots,
Heaven 17,
David McCallum,
Cybotron,
The Stooges,
The Electric Prunes,
Ultravox,
Guru Guru,
Curtis Mayfield,
Henry Cow,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Deepchord,
Rod Modell,
Kaleidoscope,
Nation of Ulysses,
Harmonia,
Glambeats Corp.,
Marvin Gaye,
Davy DMX,
Magazine,
Delta 5,
Scan 7,
John Coltrane,
Man Eating Sloth,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Loose Ends,
Alison Limerick,
Reagan Youth,
Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime.
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.