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 Sri Lanka and from Tehran.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 chamberlin 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 Soft Machine to the grime 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 John Cale. All the underground hits.
All Suicide tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neu! 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 synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bill Near,
Mary Jane Girls,
Traffic Nightmare,
Roger Hodgson,
Yazoo,
Wings,
Marcia Griffiths,
Howard Jones,
Mandrill,
Nils Olav,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
D'Angelo,
the Association,
The Five Americans,
Eve St. Jones,
David McCallum,
Thee Headcoats,
Brass Construction,
Joyce Sims,
Sexual Harrassment,
Masters at Work,
Symarip,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Stockholm Monsters,
CMW,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Stiv Bators,
Rosa Yemen,
Fluxion,
Barbara Tucker,
The Searchers,
Cluster,
The Gladiators,
New York Dolls,
Lou Reed,
Drexciya,
Thompson Twins,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
JFA,
Rufus Thomas,
Bobby Sherman,
Eric Copeland,
The Fugs,
Bush Tetras,
Rod Modell,
Fela Kuti,
F. McDonald,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Banda Bassotti,
The Saints,
Roxy Music,
Kaleidoscope,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sixth Finger,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Gang Starr,
The Monks,
Danielle Patucci,
Big Daddy Kane,
Cal Tjader,
Robert Hood,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.