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 Tajikistan and from Johannesburg.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Spoonie Gee to the jazz 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 Marshall Jefferson. All the underground hits.
All Pussy Galore tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radiohead record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Junior Murvin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Patti Smith,
Reuben Wilson,
The Standells,
Altered Images,
Eurythmics,
Man Eating Sloth,
the Swans,
Fad Gadget,
Flipper,
Tomorrow,
Tim Buckley,
Flash Fearless,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Names,
Camouflage,
Marc Almond,
Malaria!,
Rufus Thomas,
Kas Product,
Althea and Donna,
Gregory Isaacs,
David McCallum,
Michelle Simonal,
Circle Jerks,
A Certain Ratio,
The Misunderstood,
Banda Bassotti,
Stereo Dub,
MDC,
Mandrill,
The Birthday Party,
Y Pants,
Dennis Brown,
Sam Rivers,
Crispy Ambulance,
Curtis Mayfield,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Saints,
Flamin' Groovies,
Yaz,
Vladislav Delay,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Roy Ayers,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Faust,
Gichy Dan,
Wasted Youth,
Barry Ungar,
Bang On A Can,
B.T. Express,
Gang Starr,
Bauhaus,
The Tremeloes,
Warsaw,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
New Age Steppers,
Scion,
The Victims,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Cal Tjader,
Mark Hollis,
Lou Christie,
Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix.
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.