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 Sierra Leone and from Manchester.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Intrusion. All the underground hits.
All K-Klass tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kenny Larkin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Silicon Teens,
Arab on Radar,
Minutemen,
Cecil Taylor,
Pussy Galore,
Gil Scott Heron,
Mo-Dettes,
Interpol,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Agitation Free,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Jerry Gold Smith,
F. McDonald,
Joyce Sims,
Dual Sessions,
Wasted Youth,
Jandek,
OOIOO,
John Coltrane,
K-Klass,
Camberwell Now,
Wally Richardson,
Faust,
Grey Daturas,
The Offenders,
Essential Logic,
Drexciya,
Camouflage,
The Slackers,
Tubeway Army,
Jeru the Damaja,
Steve Hackett,
Gong,
Lalo Schifrin,
Big Daddy Kane,
Carl Craig,
Eddi Front,
Blossom Toes,
Cybotron,
The Gories,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Seeds,
Smog,
Lyres,
KRS-One,
The Music Machine,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Searchers,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Aloha Tigers,
Depeche Mode,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Trojans,
The Stooges,
UT,
Mary Jane Girls,
Pharoah Sanders,
Skaos,
Amon Düül,
Minnie Riperton,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
48th St. Collective,
Todd Rundgren,
Cymande, Cymande, Cymande, Cymande.
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.