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 Botswana and from Copenhagen.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Doobie Brothers to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Clear Light. All the underground hits.
All Letta Mbulu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fatback Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Star Department record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cybotron,
The Five Americans,
Eric B and Rakim,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Sun Ra,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Offenders,
Mission of Burma,
Anthony Braxton,
Ice-T,
Q and Not U,
Skriet,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Procol Harum,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Young Rascals,
Motorama,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Shoche,
In Retrospect,
Reuben Wilson,
Rekid,
Oblivians,
Eden Ahbez,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Residents,
Nico,
Duran Duran,
Trumans Water,
Graham Central Station,
Mars,
Pet Shop Boys,
Sarah Menescal,
Marine Girls,
the Slits,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Kenny Larkin,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Warsaw,
Shuggie Otis,
Dave Gahan,
Minny Pops,
Parry Music,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Minor Threat,
Hoover,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Intrusion,
Black Flag,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Mummies,
The Neon Judgement,
X-101,
The Divine Comedy,
Kevin Saunderson,
Bad Manners,
Grauzone,
Boz Scaggs,
Camouflage,
Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green.
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.