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 Andorra and from Hong Kong.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the marimba 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 Freddie Wadling to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Kevin Saunderson. All the underground hits.
All Joey Negro tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cowsills record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moss Icon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fat Boys,
Archie Shepp,
Yusef Lateef,
The Doobie Brothers,
Chris & Cosey,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Barracudas,
Whodini,
Tears for Fears,
Flash Fearless,
Scott Walker,
Grauzone,
Anthony Braxton,
a-ha,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Scratch Acid,
Urselle,
Magazine,
Technova,
Faust,
Eddi Front,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sarah Menescal,
Subhumans,
Sun Ra,
Procol Harum,
Aural Exciters,
The Golliwogs,
Jimmy McGriff,
Henry Cow,
The Wake,
The Residents,
Deakin,
Nation of Ulysses,
Smog,
The Knickerbockers,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Happenings,
The Five Americans,
June of 44,
Isaac Hayes,
The Names,
Minny Pops,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Throbbing Gristle,
Banda Bassotti,
One Last Wish,
The Fuzztones,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Amon Düül,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Circle Jerks,
Country Teasers,
Skriet,
Sandy B,
Yaz,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Ponytail,
The Flesh Eaters,
Talk Talk,
Davy DMX,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage.
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.