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 Equatorial Guinea and from Philadelphia.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the organ 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 Depeche Mode to the jazz 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 Matthew Halsall. All the underground hits.
All Slave tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Womack record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faraquet,
Saccharine Trust,
Ossler,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Moby Grape,
Surgeon,
The Sonics,
Deepchord,
Bronski Beat,
Pet Shop Boys,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Victims,
Delta 5,
Bauhaus,
Cameo,
Television Personalities,
Delon & Dalcan,
Faust,
The Gun Club,
Royal Trux,
Anthony Braxton,
Amazonics,
Robert Hood,
Rotary Connection,
The Neon Judgement,
Babytalk,
Glenn Branca,
Suburban Knight,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Accadde A,
E-Dancer,
Kevin Saunderson,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Eurythmics,
Darondo,
Icehouse,
Gil Scott Heron,
Cluster,
Ice-T,
Technova,
The Pretty Things,
Archie Shepp,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Hasil Adkins,
David McCallum,
Flamin' Groovies,
The American Breed,
The Offenders,
Unwound,
Lucky Dragons,
Juan Atkins,
Excepter,
The Mojo Men,
Wally Richardson,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Quantec,
Japan,
Max Romeo,
Kaleidoscope,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Fear, Fear, Fear, Fear.
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.