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 Gambia and from Bologna.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Lagos.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum 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 T. Rex to the electroclash 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 Yusef Lateef. All the underground hits.
All Patti Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Walker Brothers,
Crooked Eye,
Boz Scaggs,
Sun City Girls,
Vladislav Delay,
Gang Starr,
ABBA,
The Gun Club,
Ice-T,
Television,
The Sonics,
Robert Wyatt,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Charles Mingus,
Michelle Simonal,
Harpers Bizarre,
Popol Vuh,
Rosa Yemen,
The Fire Engines,
MDC,
Nation of Ulysses,
the Soft Cell,
Suburban Knight,
The Gladiators,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Neon Judgement,
Scan 7,
Roxette,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Glenn Branca,
Jerry's Kids,
Nico,
The Buckinghams,
Skaos,
Boogie Down Productions,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Lou Reed,
The Sound,
Aaron Thompson,
Stockholm Monsters,
Brick,
Brass Construction,
Cheater Slicks,
Con Funk Shun,
OOIOO,
Robert Görl,
Skarface,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
FM Einheit,
Duran Duran,
Model 500,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Star Department,
Man Parrish,
Faraquet,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Althea and Donna,
Pussy Galore,
Maleditus Sound,
The Slackers,
Mary Jane Girls,
Accadde A,
Joensuu 1685,
Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells.
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.