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 Kyrgyzstan and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 rhodes 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 Nik Kershaw to the punk 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 Flash Fearless. All the underground hits.
All The Fortunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Au Pairs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
James Chance & The Contortions,
Howard Jones,
Bill Near,
Drexciya,
Derrick Morgan,
Motorama,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Raincoats,
Franke,
48th St. Collective,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Doors,
Minor Threat,
Hot Snakes,
Skarface,
Toni Rubio,
Wally Richardson,
Kaleidoscope,
The Gories,
Camouflage,
The Remains,
Gang Starr,
Chris & Cosey,
Radio Birdman,
Public Enemy,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Parry Music,
Neil Young,
Icehouse,
Girls At Our Best!,
PIL,
Kurtis Blow,
The Black Dice,
Terry Callier,
the Germs,
Lower 48,
Josef K,
The Last Poets,
Nico,
Kas Product,
Tears for Fears,
Byron Stingily,
Crime,
The Moleskins,
Masters at Work,
Heaven 17,
Anthony Braxton,
Loose Ends,
Monks,
Pharoah Sanders,
Idris Muhammad,
Yazoo,
The Smiths,
Bill Wells,
Main Source,
Kayak,
Shuggie Otis,
Mo-Dettes,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Glenn Branca,
Wings,
the Sonics,
Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp.
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.