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 Austria and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 arpeggiator 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 Johnny Clarke to the disco 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 Judy Mowatt. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boogie Down Productions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Laurel Aitken record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quantec,
Monks,
Shuggie Otis,
Bang On A Can,
Agent Orange,
Davy DMX,
The Martian,
Archie Shepp,
10cc,
Loose Ends,
Severed Heads,
Subhumans,
Michelle Simonal,
Sandy B,
Brand Nubian,
Ultravox,
Black Flag,
Essential Logic,
Marc Almond,
Nick Fraelich,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Todd Terry,
Peter & Gordon,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Last Poets,
The Misunderstood,
Sugar Minott,
Lucky Dragons,
Inner City,
Gil Scott Heron,
Clear Light,
Ronnie Foster,
Eurythmics,
Amazonics,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Lindisfarne,
The Wake,
Oneida,
Accadde A,
Bobby Byrd,
Rites of Spring,
Harpers Bizarre,
Nas,
Carl Craig,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Evens,
The Durutti Column,
Mandrill,
Graham Central Station,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The New Christs,
The Raincoats,
New Order,
Radio Birdman,
Dual Sessions,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Oblivians,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Tubeway Army,
Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet.
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.