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 India and from Lille.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Lou Reed & Metallica to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Brick. All the underground hits.
All The Electric Prunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fad Gadget record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 Masters at Work record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bluetip,
Funky Four + One,
The Red Krayola,
Gabor Szabo,
Eric Dolphy,
Barclay James Harvest,
Tomorrow,
Y Pants,
Avey Tare,
Fela Kuti,
Hot Snakes,
The Standells,
Lou Reed,
the Fania All-Stars,
Don Cherry,
Metal Thangz,
KRS-One,
Panda Bear,
Danielle Patucci,
Pylon,
Newcleus,
A Certain Ratio,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Joe Smooth,
the Germs,
Harmonia,
48th St. Collective,
John Holt,
Bad Manners,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Gang Gang Dance,
Juan Atkins,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Wake,
The Zeros,
Icehouse,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Andrew Hill,
CMW,
Robert Görl,
Roxy Music,
Gong,
OOIOO,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Adolescents,
Thee Headcoats,
Johnny Osbourne,
X-Ray Spex,
The Motions,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Monks,
Ultimate Spinach,
Shuggie Otis,
Peter & Gordon,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Peter and Kerry,
Henry Cow,
Stetsasonic,
The American Breed,
Severed Heads,
Whodini,
Tim Buckley,
Soul II Soul, Soul II Soul, Soul II Soul, Soul II Soul.
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.