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 Kazakhstan and from Lille.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 Michael McDonald 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 Pierre Henry to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Talk Talk. All the underground hits.
All John Lydon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minutemen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 snare and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hoover record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Skatalites,
E-Dancer,
Alton Ellis,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bluetip,
Echospace,
Ponytail,
Judy Mowatt,
Ken Boothe,
Sunsets and Hearts,
B.T. Express,
The Pop Group,
Juan Atkins,
The Flesh Eaters,
Loose Ends,
Severed Heads,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Man Eating Sloth,
David McCallum,
Nirvana,
The Black Dice,
The Tremeloes,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Durutti Column,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Buzzcocks,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Marine Girls,
Scott Walker,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Circle Jerks,
CMW,
Minny Pops,
Porter Ricks,
10cc,
Black Sheep,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Grass Roots,
The Slits,
Lebanon Hanover,
Dorothy Ashby,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Shuggie Otis,
Average White Band,
Soft Cell,
The Birthday Party,
Michelle Simonal,
Joyce Sims,
Arcadia,
Q65,
Rites of Spring,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Monks,
The Real Kids,
Kaleidoscope,
the Human League,
Avey Tare,
Lou Reed,
Desert Stars,
June of 44, June of 44, June of 44, June of 44.
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.