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 Armenia and from Beijing.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 synthesizer 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 Whodini to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Red Krayola. All the underground hits.
All Spoonie Gee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gories 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scratch Acid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
Suburban Knight,
La Düsseldorf,
10cc,
Make Up,
Con Funk Shun,
Slick Rick,
the Swans,
Lightning Bolt,
Sexual Harrassment,
Schoolly D,
Byron Stingily,
The Pretty Things,
Donny Hathaway,
Icehouse,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Wake,
FM Einheit,
Simply Red,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
the Association,
Mark Hollis,
Circle Jerks,
Blancmange,
Ten City,
Tropical Tobacco,
Harmonia,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Grey Daturas,
ABC,
Sam Rivers,
Isaac Hayes,
Barbara Tucker,
Letta Mbulu,
MC5,
David Axelrod,
Shuggie Otis,
Minnie Riperton,
Groovy Waters,
Archie Shepp,
Sugar Minott,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Misunderstood,
Jacob Miller,
Bill Near,
The Gories,
The Monochrome Set,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Black Moon,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Eurythmics,
Rites of Spring,
Kaleidoscope,
Arab on Radar,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Todd Rundgren,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Section 25,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Saints,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme.
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.