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 Jordan and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 A Flock of Seagulls to the rock 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 Massinfluence. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glenn Branca 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Hood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crooked Eye,
Sam Rivers,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Isaac Hayes,
Scan 7,
the Slits,
The Slackers,
Cameo,
Sparks,
Pere Ubu,
L. Decosne,
Sixth Finger,
the Normal,
Drexciya,
Ituana,
Rotary Connection,
David Bowie,
The United States of America,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Lalann,
R.M.O.,
The Names,
Nick Fraelich,
Moby Grape,
Amazonics,
Alison Limerick,
Aaron Thompson,
Josef K,
Pet Shop Boys,
Wally Richardson,
Metal Thangz,
June of 44,
X-101,
Funkadelic,
Livin' Joy,
Hasil Adkins,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Grey Daturas,
Quantec,
Kevin Saunderson,
Susan Cadogan,
Urselle,
Cymande,
The Mummies,
Jerry Gold Smith,
the Association,
The Electric Prunes,
Kerri Chandler,
Sexual Harrassment,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Move,
Harry Pussy,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Yaz,
Spandau Ballet,
Reuben Wilson,
Rekid,
Nation of Ulysses,
Be Bop Deluxe,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.
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.