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 Mali 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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Procol Harum 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 Alison Limerick. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sandy B record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharoah Sanders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chris Corsano,
Desert Stars,
Panda Bear,
Morten Harket,
Marc Almond,
R.M.O.,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Star Department,
Neil Young,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Stockholm Monsters,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Stetsasonic,
Malaria!,
Zero Boys,
The New Christs,
Marine Girls,
Magazine,
Masters at Work,
Yazoo,
OOIOO,
Angry Samoans,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Television Personalities,
Porter Ricks,
Colin Newman,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Lou Reed,
Newcleus,
the Sonics,
Can,
Drexciya,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Shoche,
Peter & Gordon,
Scan 7,
Donald Byrd,
Bill Near,
Silicon Teens,
The Flesh Eaters,
Yellowson,
The Gories,
Jeru the Damaja,
Wasted Youth,
Charles Mingus,
Soulsonic Force,
Gang Green,
Crooked Eye,
The Wake,
Absolute Body Control,
Derrick May,
Graham Central Station,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Saccharine Trust,
David McCallum,
Sound Behaviour,
Minnie Riperton,
a-ha,
David Axelrod,
Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears.
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.