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 Iraq and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Sexual Harrassment to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Manfred Mann's Earth Band. All the underground hits.
All Bronski Beat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fugs 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 Man Parrish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
the Sonics,
Con Funk Shun,
Television,
The Dead C,
Bush Tetras,
The Misunderstood,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Cal Tjader,
Lindisfarne,
Smog,
Skaos,
Fatback Band,
Swans,
Boogie Down Productions,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
the Human League,
The Star Department,
the Germs,
Minnie Riperton,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Walker Brothers,
This Heat,
The Black Dice,
Audionom,
Avey Tare,
Skriet,
The Doobie Brothers,
Tears for Fears,
Mandrill,
The Monks,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Andrew Hill,
Brick,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
X-Ray Spex,
The Zeros,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Tomorrow,
Eurythmics,
Interpol,
The Index,
Blancmange,
Black Moon,
DJ Sneak,
Arcadia,
Joensuu 1685,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Curtis Mayfield,
Porter Ricks,
T.S.O.L.,
The Cure,
Make Up,
The Offenders,
Jacques Brel,
World's Most,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Aaron Thompson,
Kevin Saunderson,
Stiv Bators,
Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance.
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.