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 Argentina and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 rhodes 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 Tears for Fears to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Liaisons Dangereuses. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Remains record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 a mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Style record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
David Axelrod,
Surgeon,
Rapeman,
OOIOO,
Jimmy McGriff,
48th St. Collective,
Black Pus,
Camberwell Now,
Boz Scaggs,
Public Enemy,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Desert Stars,
the Fania All-Stars,
Jeff Lynne,
The American Breed,
Clear Light,
Pharoah Sanders,
DJ Sneak,
The Invisible,
These Immortal Souls,
Roxette,
Little Man,
Con Funk Shun,
Lou Reed,
The Alarm Clocks,
A Certain Ratio,
Franke,
The Slits,
Quadrant,
Mission of Burma,
David Bowie,
Gong,
The Fire Engines,
New Age Steppers,
The Leaves,
Bauhaus,
Glambeats Corp.,
Section 25,
Alphaville,
The Velvet Underground,
James White and The Blacks,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Minny Pops,
Michelle Simonal,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bluetip,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Black Sheep,
Gil Scott Heron,
Don Cherry,
Joy Division,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Ossler,
Eric Dolphy,
The Walker Brothers,
Zapp,
Stetsasonic,
Drexciya,
Marc Almond,
Hasil Adkins,
Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane.
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.