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 Turkmenistan and from Madrid.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Intrusion to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Rufus Thomas. All the underground hits.
All A Certain Ratio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Archie Shepp 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Public Enemy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
cv313,
Arcadia,
The Music Machine,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Ronan,
Dave Gahan,
Mission of Burma,
Lungfish,
Amon Düül II,
Tres Demented,
Interpol,
Scion,
Robert Wyatt,
Curtis Mayfield,
John Foxx,
EPMD,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Grass Roots,
Idris Muhammad,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Knickerbockers,
Pantaleimon,
Scratch Acid,
Rufus Thomas,
Liliput,
James White and The Blacks,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Sandy B,
Alison Limerick,
PIL,
Adolescents,
Archie Shepp,
Urselle,
Don Cherry,
Barry Ungar,
Surgeon,
Eden Ahbez,
LL Cool J,
Vladislav Delay,
Ken Boothe,
Dorothy Ashby,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Severed Heads,
Pantytec,
The Busters,
Hot Snakes,
Spoonie Gee,
Fatback Band,
The Motions,
The Names,
The Remains,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
the Association,
Yazoo,
Magma,
Boz Scaggs,
The Seeds,
Skarface,
Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle.
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.