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 Solomon Islands and from Sao Paulo.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 organ 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 Suicide to the rap 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 Sonny Sharrock. All the underground hits.
All Kerrie Biddell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Idris Muhammad 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ituana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Isaac Hayes,
CMW,
Icehouse,
The Buckinghams,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Whodini,
Suicide,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Severed Heads,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Ronnie Foster,
Marine Girls,
Moss Icon,
Colin Newman,
The Walker Brothers,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Gichy Dan,
Boz Scaggs,
Nik Kershaw,
Black Sheep,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Doobie Brothers,
Sun City Girls,
Subhumans,
Gabor Szabo,
Sam Rivers,
Wasted Youth,
Animal Collective,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Wings,
the Soft Cell,
Minor Threat,
The New Christs,
Amon Düül,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Cowsills,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Arcadia,
Robert Görl,
Judy Mowatt,
Wally Richardson,
The Slackers,
The Moleskins,
World's Most,
Rufus Thomas,
Stiv Bators,
Drive Like Jehu,
Average White Band,
Little Man,
Minnie Riperton,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Fall,
Malaria!,
Lou Christie,
The Neon Judgement,
The Searchers,
Hot Snakes,
Gang of Four,
Quadrant,
Model 500,
John Coltrane,
Tears for Fears,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo.
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.