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 Grenada and from Copenhagen.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 marimba 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 The Fuzztones to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Siglo XX. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott Heron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a FM Einheit record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soulsonic Force,
Babytalk,
Leonard Cohen,
Cymande,
Mary Jane Girls,
Camberwell Now,
Young Marble Giants,
OOIOO,
Barry Ungar,
Chris Corsano,
Radiopuhelimet,
Harry Pussy,
Brothers Johnson,
Delon & Dalcan,
Anthony Braxton,
Throbbing Gristle,
These Immortal Souls,
Sparks,
Kool Moe Dee,
Rod Modell,
Shuggie Otis,
Crispian St. Peters,
Minny Pops,
Los Fastidios,
Alton Ellis,
The Searchers,
Crash Course in Science,
Roy Ayers,
Peter & Gordon,
Spandau Ballet,
Newcleus,
Morten Harket,
Minnie Riperton,
Erasure,
Todd Rundgren,
Lower 48,
Make Up,
The Dirtbombs,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Mummies,
Kas Product,
Organ,
Sexual Harrassment,
Dual Sessions,
Soul II Soul,
Donny Hathaway,
Icehouse,
Gang Starr,
Gong,
David Axelrod,
Nils Olav,
UT,
X-101,
Bill Near,
The Saints,
Carl Craig,
Harpers Bizarre,
Von Mondo,
The Moody Blues,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Barbara Tucker,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.