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 Cuba and from Madrid.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Sunsets and Hearts to the disco 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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu. All the underground hits.
All Crooked Eye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bill Near 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radio Birdman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Leaves,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Funky Four + One,
Dennis Brown,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Blancmange,
Little Man,
Frankie Knuckles,
Wings,
Mr. Review,
Joy Division,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Blues Magoos,
The Slackers,
Accadde A,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Neil Young,
The Doobie Brothers,
DJ Style,
Stetsasonic,
Tim Buckley,
Suicide,
Lindisfarne,
Index,
Sparks,
Swans,
Slick Rick,
The Smiths,
Brick,
Lou Christie,
Rekid,
Inner City,
The Music Machine,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
the Bar-Kays,
The Fire Engines,
MDC,
The Buckinghams,
Mandrill,
Siglo XX,
Skriet,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Adolescents,
Fluxion,
X-Ray Spex,
the Slits,
Wolf Eyes,
Minutemen,
Mission of Burma,
Masters at Work,
Desert Stars,
Sonic Youth,
the Human League,
Todd Terry,
Bill Wells,
Schoolly D,
Basic Channel,
Sister Nancy,
Bob Dylan,
Livin' Joy,
Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp.
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.