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 Saudi Arabia and from Shanghai.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 mellotron 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 The Happenings to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Depeche Mode. All the underground hits.
All Skarface tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vladislav Delay 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Green record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mandrill,
Scrapy,
the Swans,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Yellowson,
Public Enemy,
Blake Baxter,
Sister Nancy,
Thee Headcoats,
Sex Pistols,
Stetsasonic,
Nation of Ulysses,
Wire,
Visage,
Agent Orange,
John Coltrane,
Marmalade,
Fluxion,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Detroit Cobras,
Joyce Sims,
Joe Smooth,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Pharoah Sanders,
Shuggie Otis,
Toni Rubio,
The Slits,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Skatalites,
Basic Channel,
Ralphi Rosario,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Reagan Youth,
Aaron Thompson,
Archie Shepp,
Deadbeat,
The Grass Roots,
Panda Bear,
Talk Talk,
Minor Threat,
Skarface,
Terry Callier,
Ken Boothe,
The Happenings,
Scion,
Bobby Byrd,
The Mojo Men,
The Residents,
Eli Mardock,
The Gun Club,
The J.B.'s,
Chris Corsano,
The Move,
Guru Guru,
Arab on Radar,
Half Japanese,
Symarip,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Joey Negro,
Reuben Wilson,
Eve St. Jones,
Gang Green,
Duran Duran,
Johnny Clarke,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.