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 Belgium and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 Sao Paulo and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 synthesizer 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 The Pretty Things 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 The Gories. All the underground hits.
All The Invisible tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Panda Bear 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Kinks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pagans,
The Standells,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Gang of Four,
Gang Green,
Nas,
K-Klass,
Ohio Players,
Hoover,
Porter Ricks,
New York Dolls,
The Young Rascals,
The Move,
The Mummies,
Bluetip,
Todd Rundgren,
The Fortunes,
The Neon Judgement,
Jerry's Kids,
Pharoah Sanders,
Subhumans,
The Doobie Brothers,
Max Romeo,
Thee Headcoats,
Bang On A Can,
Smog,
FM Einheit,
Flipper,
Ludus,
Aaron Thompson,
The Index,
Boz Scaggs,
The Sound,
the Bar-Kays,
The Wake,
Dark Day,
Pulsallama,
Ossler,
Nils Olav,
Joe Finger,
Aural Exciters,
Black Sheep,
Rites of Spring,
Grandmaster Flash,
Warsaw,
Young Marble Giants,
The Techniques,
Black Bananas,
Darondo,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
T.S.O.L.,
Supertramp,
Minutemen,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
UT,
Pere Ubu,
Lalann,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Eric B and Rakim,
MDC,
Carl Craig, Carl Craig, Carl Craig, Carl Craig.
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.