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 Ivory Coast and from Sao Paulo.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Lyon.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Marshall Jefferson to the techno 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 Pharoah Sanders. All the underground hits.
All the Swans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott Heron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gun Club record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Desert Stars,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Dual Sessions,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Spoonie Gee,
The Toasters,
Groovy Waters,
Girls At Our Best!,
DJ Style,
The Electric Prunes,
Gerry Rafferty,
Thompson Twins,
Roger Hodgson,
Jacques Brel,
Susan Cadogan,
Dave Gahan,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
T. Rex,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Rekid,
Drexciya,
Urselle,
Stockholm Monsters,
Sister Nancy,
Black Sheep,
cv313,
Matthew Halsall,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Minnie Riperton,
Surgeon,
Wally Richardson,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Ultravox,
Brass Construction,
Goldenarms,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Masters at Work,
The Mojo Men,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Mad Mike,
Iggy Pop,
Rites of Spring,
Harpers Bizarre,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Can,
Fear,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Barracudas,
Lucky Dragons,
Harry Pussy,
Stiv Bators,
MDC,
Jeff Mills,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
James White and The Blacks,
The Fortunes,
Fat Boys,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.