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 Eritrea and from Salvador.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 EPMD to the funk 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 The Beau Brummels. All the underground hits.
All the Association tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Steve Hackett record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Anakelly record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scientists,
The Smoke,
The Mojo Men,
Negative Approach,
Robert Görl,
Pulsallama,
Bobby Byrd,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gerry Rafferty,
Arthur Verocai,
Gil Scott Heron,
Mantronix,
Reuben Wilson,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Drive Like Jehu,
Pantaleimon,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
the Association,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Royal Trux,
Marvin Gaye,
One Last Wish,
Joyce Sims,
Eric B and Rakim,
Alton Ellis,
Juan Atkins,
Ituana,
Swans,
John Holt,
The Buckinghams,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Warsaw,
Wolf Eyes,
Iggy Pop,
Symarip,
Young Marble Giants,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Accadde A,
Mission of Burma,
Camouflage,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Glenn Branca,
Icehouse,
Janne Schatter,
Cheater Slicks,
Morten Harket,
Sight & Sound,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Rapeman,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Don Cherry,
Funky Four + One,
The Angels of Light,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ornette Coleman,
The Pretty Things,
Charles Mingus,
Byron Stingily,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Theoretical Girls,
Simply Red,
Johnny Osbourne,
Ultimate Spinach,
Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near.
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.