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 Cyprus and from Delhi.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Leaves to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Moebius. All the underground hits.
All Depeche Mode tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deepchord 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a a-ha record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Schoolly D,
The Mummies,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Dirtbombs,
Cymande,
Groovy Waters,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Birthday Party,
Reagan Youth,
Young Marble Giants,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Nirvana,
Masters at Work,
Jerry's Kids,
The Leaves,
Danielle Patucci,
Aural Exciters,
Dead Boys,
Steve Hackett,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Grass Roots,
Rotary Connection,
Roxy Music,
Smog,
The Flesh Eaters,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Silicon Teens,
The Music Machine,
the Fania All-Stars,
New Order,
Pierre Henry,
X-Ray Spex,
Hasil Adkins,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Panda Bear,
Anthony Braxton,
Black Sheep,
Niagra,
Funkadelic,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Audionom,
The Pretty Things,
Skaos,
Oneida,
Radio Birdman,
A Certain Ratio,
Fugazi,
The Barracudas,
H. Thieme,
Cal Tjader,
The Knickerbockers,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Barry Ungar,
T. Rex,
Depeche Mode,
The Buckinghams,
Procol Harum,
FM Einheit,
Jeru the Damaja,
Television Personalities,
The Velvet Underground,
Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma.
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.