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 Iraq and from Bologna.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 chamberlin 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 Eve St. Jones 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 Golliwogs. All the underground hits.
All Angry Samoans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Bourne 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ten City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cal Tjader,
Erasure,
The Shadows of Knight,
Todd Terry,
Monolake,
Sex Pistols,
Derrick May,
Tomorrow,
Warsaw,
Dorothy Ashby,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Kerri Chandler,
Harmonia,
Charles Mingus,
The Invisible,
Eve St. Jones,
Mandrill,
Slick Rick,
Wire,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Durutti Column,
Joyce Sims,
Jacob Miller,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
CMW,
Pole,
the Bar-Kays,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Marc Almond,
Swans,
Buzzcocks,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
R.M.O.,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Slits,
Althea and Donna,
Jawbox,
The Selecter,
Das Ding,
Byron Stingily,
Roger Hodgson,
The Music Machine,
Barclay James Harvest,
Clear Light,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Scott Walker,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Animal Collective,
Jeff Mills,
Pere Ubu,
The Human League,
the Soft Cell,
Thompson Twins,
Sällskapet,
Pulsallama,
Iggy Pop,
Piero Umiliani,
The Dead C,
Kaleidoscope,
The Searchers,
The Divine Comedy,
Agent Orange,
ABBA,
Ohio Players, Ohio Players, Ohio Players, Ohio Players.
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.