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 Beijing.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the rhodes 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 World's Most to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Mummies. All the underground hits.
All Unrelated Segments tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dave Clark Five record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Man Eating Sloth,
David Axelrod,
Ultravox,
Bobby Hutcherson,
the Bar-Kays,
Ossler,
Neu!,
The Kinks,
Tres Demented,
Rhythm & Sound,
Barbara Tucker,
Trumans Water,
H. Thieme,
L. Decosne,
Ultimate Spinach,
PIL,
Supertramp,
These Immortal Souls,
Josef K,
The Alarm Clocks,
Television Personalities,
The Blackbyrds,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Sällskapet,
Prince Buster,
Ralphi Rosario,
Barry Ungar,
Symarip,
Pierre Henry,
Mark Hollis,
The United States of America,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
the Association,
Unrelated Segments,
Organ,
Cybotron,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
OOIOO,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Lindisfarne,
Harry Pussy,
Kool Moe Dee,
Jeff Mills,
Lower 48,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Walker Brothers,
Althea and Donna,
Kurtis Blow,
Man Parrish,
Bill Near,
Arcadia,
Echospace,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Skatalites,
Popol Vuh,
Agent Orange,
Essential Logic,
Country Teasers,
Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones.
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.