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 Vanuatu and from Sao Paulo.
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 Lyon and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Radiohead. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Flag 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Animal Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fire Engines,
Yellowson,
Jeff Mills,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
48th St. Collective,
Sonic Youth,
Moebius,
Gerry Rafferty,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Sun City Girls,
Simply Red,
Mary Jane Girls,
a-ha,
Lalo Schifrin,
Echospace,
Eve St. Jones,
The Five Americans,
Marcia Griffiths,
Chris Corsano,
Pharoah Sanders,
Rakim,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Gang of Four,
Man Eating Sloth,
Siglo XX,
The Buckinghams,
Wings,
Freddie Wadling,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Fatback Band,
Minutemen,
Negative Approach,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Harry Pussy,
Minnie Riperton,
Pantaleimon,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Juan Atkins,
DJ Style,
Faust,
Sparks,
The Dead C,
Bobby Womack,
Public Enemy,
Ultra Naté,
The Detroit Cobras,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Jeru the Damaja,
Johnny Clarke,
The Misunderstood,
The Standells,
Lower 48,
Crime,
Outsiders,
Skarface,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Desert Stars,
Bobby Sherman,
Cymande,
Alice Coltrane,
Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip.
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.