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 Equatorial Guinea and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron 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 These Immortal Souls 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 Stiv Bators. All the underground hits.
All Throbbing Gristle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every June of 44 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Star Department record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Banda Bassotti,
Ralphi Rosario,
Desert Stars,
Unrelated Segments,
Soul II Soul,
OOIOO,
Danielle Patucci,
June of 44,
Patti Smith,
Buzzcocks,
The Moleskins,
Scan 7,
The Pretty Things,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Mantronix,
MDC,
Ossler,
the Slits,
Susan Cadogan,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
New Age Steppers,
Dorothy Ashby,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Groovy Waters,
The Fire Engines,
Gang Gang Dance,
Max Romeo,
Janne Schatter,
Soft Cell,
Ituana,
Japan,
Todd Terry,
Khruangbin,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Chris & Cosey,
Marshall Jefferson,
F. McDonald,
Scion,
Alison Limerick,
Agitation Free,
Television,
Pierre Henry,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Doobie Brothers,
Con Funk Shun,
The Red Krayola,
Second Layer,
Kevin Saunderson,
Ponytail,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Terry Callier,
The Residents,
The Last Poets,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Pere Ubu,
Interpol,
The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes.
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.