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 Grenada and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Soft Cell to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Pole. All the underground hits.
All Terry Callier tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hot Snakes 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Grass Roots record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Shadows of Knight,
Mission of Burma,
The Young Rascals,
Surgeon,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Moss Icon,
Funkadelic,
Glenn Branca,
The Angels of Light,
Scientists,
Goldenarms,
Porter Ricks,
The Red Krayola,
Amazonics,
48th St. Collective,
Susan Cadogan,
Animal Collective,
Monolake,
Lou Reed,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Barbara Tucker,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Names,
Con Funk Shun,
Malaria!,
Bobby Sherman,
Iggy Pop,
Gastr Del Sol,
Pole,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Pere Ubu,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Das Ding,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Aloha Tigers,
Sexual Harrassment,
Brothers Johnson,
Kerrie Biddell,
Theoretical Girls,
Roger Hodgson,
The Golliwogs,
The Raincoats,
The Slackers,
The Velvet Underground,
Toni Rubio,
The Standells,
Altered Images,
Skriet,
Maleditus Sound,
This Heat,
Big Daddy Kane,
Warsaw,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Procol Harum,
Moby Grape,
The Five Americans,
Pantaleimon,
Brand Nubian,
Ossler,
Yaz, Yaz, Yaz, Yaz.
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.