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 El Salvador and from Salvador.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Sandy B to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Erasure. All the underground hits.
All The Victims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New York Dolls 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 güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gastr Del Sol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Khruangbin,
Sixth Finger,
Spandau Ballet,
Mr. Review,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Velvet Underground,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Davy DMX,
Tom Boy,
Jimmy McGriff,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Kenny Larkin,
Swell Maps,
Whodini,
Michelle Simonal,
Heaven 17,
Brand Nubian,
Joe Finger,
Vainqueur,
Godley & Creme,
Mars,
Faraquet,
Livin' Joy,
K-Klass,
Zero Boys,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Ossler,
The Residents,
a-ha,
The Fortunes,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Cluster,
Minny Pops,
Mark Hollis,
MDC,
the Slits,
Rotary Connection,
The Sonics,
Schoolly D,
Soulsonic Force,
Funkadelic,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Johnny Osbourne,
Ituana,
Minutemen,
Grauzone,
The Searchers,
Camouflage,
Supertramp,
John Lydon,
Howard Jones,
The Associates,
The Remains,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Camberwell Now,
Parry Music,
Lalann, Lalann, Lalann, Lalann.
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.