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 Monaco and from Paris.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 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 Eric Copeland to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Thee Headcoats. All the underground hits.
All Beasts of Bourbon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish 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 '60s 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 The Busters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Depeche Mode,
Cluster,
Second Layer,
Minnie Riperton,
Unrelated Segments,
Tropical Tobacco,
Al Stewart,
La Düsseldorf,
John Lydon,
Soft Cell,
OOIOO,
Isaac Hayes,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Joensuu 1685,
Pussy Galore,
Roy Ayers,
Gichy Dan,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Judy Mowatt,
Black Sheep,
The Doobie Brothers,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Alison Limerick,
Sonny Sharrock,
Prince Buster,
DJ Style,
The Divine Comedy,
Sandy B,
Gong,
The Mojo Men,
The Angels of Light,
Harry Pussy,
Pere Ubu,
Gregory Isaacs,
U.S. Maple,
Main Source,
The Cure,
Wally Richardson,
Lalann,
Hardrive,
The Neon Judgement,
Warsaw,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Techniques,
Crooked Eye,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Skatalites,
Amon Düül,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Knickerbockers,
Porter Ricks,
Matthew Halsall,
Bill Near,
DJ Sneak,
Model 500,
Matthew Bourne,
Mission of Burma,
Ossler,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Y Pants,
Bush Tetras,
Monolake,
The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps.
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.