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 Comoros and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in 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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Stockholm Monsters to the crunk 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 Y Pants. All the underground hits.
All Excepter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sugar Minott record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 a guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gichy Dan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sly & The Family Stone,
Black Moon,
Q65,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
One Last Wish,
Animal Collective,
Yazoo,
David Axelrod,
Zapp,
Robert Wyatt,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Index,
Janne Schatter,
Bad Manners,
Black Bananas,
Connie Case,
Boogie Down Productions,
Deadbeat,
R.M.O.,
Blake Baxter,
Radio Birdman,
New York Dolls,
Talk Talk,
Wolf Eyes,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Visage,
Lindisfarne,
Danielle Patucci,
Franke,
The Divine Comedy,
Wasted Youth,
Althea and Donna,
Minutemen,
Ossler,
Don Cherry,
Jimmy McGriff,
Lower 48,
John Lydon,
Arcadia,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Byron Stingily,
Whodini,
Buzzcocks,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Busters,
Charles Mingus,
DJ Style,
The Associates,
the Slits,
Ultra Naté,
Parry Music,
Lucky Dragons,
Kool Moe Dee,
Japan,
Alice Coltrane,
Sight & Sound,
Neu!,
La Düsseldorf,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Throbbing Gristle,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders.
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.