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 Syria and from Mumbai.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 güiro 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 Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Qualms. All the underground hits.
All Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gladiators record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Juan Atkins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Pop Group,
Nico,
Cluster,
Talk Talk,
Banda Bassotti,
Icehouse,
Animal Collective,
The Stooges,
Kas Product,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Charles Mingus,
The Leaves,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Electric Prunes,
Sam Rivers,
Oblivians,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Frankie Knuckles,
Eurythmics,
Porter Ricks,
Janne Schatter,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
DJ Style,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Warsaw,
London Community Gospel Choir,
T. Rex,
In Retrospect,
Jacques Brel,
Gang Starr,
Kenny Larkin,
Quantec,
L. Decosne,
The Invisible,
Boz Scaggs,
Cybotron,
Simply Red,
Eric B and Rakim,
John Coltrane,
Lee Hazlewood,
Wasted Youth,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Accadde A,
Blancmange,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Kerri Chandler,
Yaz,
The Flesh Eaters,
ABBA,
The Pretty Things,
Jawbox,
Yazoo,
Y Pants,
Bootsy Collins,
Q65,
Bobby Sherman,
Glenn Branca,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Marcia Griffiths,
Lakeside,
Depeche Mode,
Lyres,
Japan, Japan, Japan, Japan.
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.