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 Jamaica and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 spring reverb 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade 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 Terry Callier. All the underground hits.
All Joe Smooth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fat Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slave,
The Golliwogs,
Jacob Miller,
Jerry's Kids,
E-Dancer,
Gang Green,
Moby Grape,
Bobby Sherman,
Sight & Sound,
Surgeon,
Unwound,
The Move,
Yellowson,
Fad Gadget,
Pylon,
Average White Band,
Darondo,
Byron Stingily,
Simply Red,
Scan 7,
The American Breed,
Charles Mingus,
Colin Newman,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Cowsills,
Ronnie Foster,
Gerry Rafferty,
Jeff Lynne,
Royal Trux,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Index,
The Fugs,
Desert Stars,
Main Source,
Idris Muhammad,
Lyres,
Neu!,
Dave Gahan,
8 Eyed Spy,
Suicide,
Nirvana,
the Germs,
The Evens,
DJ Sneak,
Robert Görl,
Lucky Dragons,
John Lydon,
Ponytail,
the Normal,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Tomorrow,
Mark Hollis,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Silicon Teens,
Zero Boys,
The Count Five,
China Crisis,
D'Angelo,
Anakelly,
Niagra,
Derrick Morgan,
Basic Channel,
Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins.
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.