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 Burkina and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 spring reverb 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 X-102 to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Massinfluence. All the underground hits.
All T. Rex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Swell Maps record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Visage,
Sound Behaviour,
Das Ding,
Electric Prunes,
Charles Mingus,
The Pop Group,
Marmalade,
Gong,
Aural Exciters,
Eden Ahbez,
Altered Images,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Wally Richardson,
Tropical Tobacco,
Siglo XX,
Iggy Pop,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Camouflage,
Fifty Foot Hose,
PIL,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Hasil Adkins,
Gabor Szabo,
a-ha,
Brick,
Harpers Bizarre,
Radio Birdman,
Loose Ends,
Faraquet,
H. Thieme,
Lightning Bolt,
Metal Thangz,
John Lydon,
Sandy B,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Knickerbockers,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The New Christs,
Mandrill,
Silicon Teens,
Banda Bassotti,
Bronski Beat,
The American Breed,
Tubeway Army,
the Swans,
Symarip,
the Association,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Popol Vuh,
The Happenings,
Maleditus Sound,
Pantytec,
Soulsonic Force,
Sun City Girls,
Throbbing Gristle,
Easy Going,
Judy Mowatt,
The J.B.'s,
John Holt,
Masters at Work,
Susan Cadogan,
Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A.
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.