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 Uzbekistan and from New York.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Minnie Riperton to the disco 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 June of 44. All the underground hits.
All Amon Düül II tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Unrelated Segments 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Connie Case record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
Chrome,
Cecil Taylor,
Groovy Waters,
Todd Rundgren,
Lakeside,
Gichy Dan,
The Durutti Column,
The Modern Lovers,
The Moody Blues,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Cluster,
Zapp,
Clear Light,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Roy Ayers,
Scott Walker,
Rites of Spring,
Kurtis Blow,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Henry Cow,
The Moleskins,
Moebius,
The Wake,
Monks,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Yaz,
The Standells,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Television Personalities,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Gregory Isaacs,
Lalann,
Essential Logic,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
X-101,
Big Daddy Kane,
Matthew Bourne,
The Tremeloes,
The Doors,
Make Up,
Deepchord,
Barbara Tucker,
Skriet,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Don Cherry,
The Happenings,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Cheater Slicks,
Section 25,
Rotary Connection,
Fugazi,
Spoonie Gee,
Khruangbin,
OOIOO,
Sandy B,
Maleditus Sound,
Mad Mike,
Judy Mowatt,
The Detroit Cobras,
Ituana,
8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy.
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.