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 Laos and from Manchester.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Rosa Yemen to the funk 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 Joyce Sims. All the underground hits.
All a-ha tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skriet 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lizzy Mercier Descloux record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boz Scaggs,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Alarm Clocks,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Lucky Dragons,
Scion,
Matthew Bourne,
Connie Case,
Steve Hackett,
June Days,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Knickerbockers,
DJ Style,
ABBA,
Derrick Morgan,
Black Bananas,
Barbara Tucker,
The Smoke,
Stiv Bators,
the Slits,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Human League,
Tears for Fears,
Basic Channel,
8 Eyed Spy,
Marc Almond,
Radiopuhelimet,
Public Enemy,
Jesper Dahlback,
Livin' Joy,
Suburban Knight,
The Cramps,
Eddi Front,
Man Parrish,
Jerry's Kids,
La Düsseldorf,
The Move,
Dorothy Ashby,
F. McDonald,
Alton Ellis,
Moss Icon,
Stereo Dub,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Pussy Galore,
PIL,
Joensuu 1685,
Brass Construction,
The J.B.'s,
Main Source,
UT,
Nirvana,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Smog,
Unwound,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bush Tetras,
T. Rex,
Letta Mbulu,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Dead C,
CMW,
Circle Jerks,
Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw.
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.