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 United States and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 808 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 New Age Steppers to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Smiths. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker + Sunn O))) tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Beasts of Bourbon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gerry Rafferty,
Technova,
Masters at Work,
Youth Brigade,
Camberwell Now,
Quando Quango,
Eyeless In Gaza,
AZ,
T. Rex,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Stiv Bators,
Delta 5,
Patti Smith,
Saccharine Trust,
Al Stewart,
Surgeon,
Marc Almond,
Vladislav Delay,
John Holt,
H. Thieme,
JFA,
Smog,
Gabor Szabo,
Tim Buckley,
Charles Mingus,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Move,
Junior Murvin,
Lower 48,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Johnny Osbourne,
Harpers Bizarre,
Lakeside,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Newcleus,
Pere Ubu,
Chris & Cosey,
48th St. Collective,
This Heat,
Vainqueur,
Anthony Braxton,
Arab on Radar,
Albert Ayler,
Wire,
Zapp,
Grey Daturas,
Angry Samoans,
Colin Newman,
KRS-One,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Kaleidoscope,
The Seeds,
Harry Pussy,
Kevin Saunderson,
Anakelly,
Public Enemy,
Erasure,
La Düsseldorf,
The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges.
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.