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 Nicaragua and from Taipei.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the theremin 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 Zapp to the dance 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 Ken Boothe. All the underground hits.
All Cal Tjader tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Michelle Simonal record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Half Japanese record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pere Ubu,
Infiniti,
Zero Boys,
New Order,
Stereo Dub,
The Sound,
Boredoms,
Lou Christie,
The Five Americans,
Public Image Ltd.,
Yusef Lateef,
Roxy Music,
The Black Dice,
Von Mondo,
Popol Vuh,
Porter Ricks,
Delta 5,
Hot Snakes,
The Alarm Clocks,
Eden Ahbez,
Q65,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Arthur Verocai,
Morten Harket,
Matthew Halsall,
the Sonics,
Thee Headcoats,
Ronan,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Unwound,
Kerrie Biddell,
Avey Tare,
Trumans Water,
John Lydon,
Agent Orange,
Country Teasers,
Rufus Thomas,
Spandau Ballet,
The Martian,
Sparks,
Spoonie Gee,
Barclay James Harvest,
Bill Wells,
Moby Grape,
Q and Not U,
Rotary Connection,
Rekid,
the Fania All-Stars,
Graham Central Station,
Man Parrish,
Agitation Free,
Anthony Braxton,
World's Most,
Aloha Tigers,
Scion,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Quando Quango,
Theoretical Girls,
London Community Gospel Choir,
the Germs,
Brand Nubian,
Neu!,
Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime.
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.