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 Tonga and from New York.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 Robert Palmer 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 Fluxion to the grime 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 Masters at Work. All the underground hits.
All Index tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Chocolate Watch Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jacques Brel,
Country Joe & The Fish,
E-Dancer,
Juan Atkins,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
John Coltrane,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Echospace,
Suicide,
Barry Ungar,
Lungfish,
Laurel Aitken,
Rakim,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Moby Grape,
The Buckinghams,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Wake,
Joy Division,
The Electric Prunes,
The Dead C,
Radio Birdman,
Motorama,
Tropical Tobacco,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Tomorrow,
John Holt,
John Foxx,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Scientists,
Johnny Clarke,
Carl Craig,
Black Bananas,
Babytalk,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Index,
The Sound,
DNA,
Ludus,
The Gladiators,
8 Eyed Spy,
U.S. Maple,
Popol Vuh,
Pulsallama,
Thee Headcoats,
Rufus Thomas,
The Gun Club,
Kayak,
Patti Smith,
Arcadia,
OOIOO,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
CMW,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Robert Görl,
Man Parrish,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Shadows of Knight,
Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland.
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.