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 Korea South and from New York.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Blossom Toes to the punk 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 La Düsseldorf. All the underground hits.
All Leonard Cohen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobbi Humphrey 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?
Sixth Finger,
Frankie Knuckles,
Maleditus Sound,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Blackbyrds,
Harmonia,
James White and The Blacks,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Gang Gang Dance,
Grandmaster Flash,
Bob Dylan,
Arab on Radar,
Ohio Players,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Josef K,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Pagans,
Alphaville,
Fatback Band,
Ultravox,
The Busters,
The Sonics,
Shoche,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Jimmy McGriff,
Girls At Our Best!,
Desert Stars,
Mantronix,
Erykah Badu,
Don Cherry,
the Slits,
Buzzcocks,
Alice Coltrane,
The Saints,
The Doobie Brothers,
Interpol,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Das Ding,
The Fuzztones,
The Stooges,
Matthew Halsall,
Gong,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ossler,
Popol Vuh,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Dave Gahan,
cv313,
Groovy Waters,
Unrelated Segments,
Byron Stingily,
Von Mondo,
Derrick Morgan,
Pulsallama,
Easy Going,
the Bar-Kays,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lucky Dragons,
Circle Jerks,
Panda Bear,
Deadbeat,
Youth Brigade,
Amon Düül, Amon Düül, Amon Düül, Amon Düül.
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.