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 Korea South and from Bremen.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Kango’s Stein Massive to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud. All the underground hits.
All Fat Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heavy D & The Boyz record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 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 MDC record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amon Düül II,
D'Angelo,
Lalann,
Zapp,
Porter Ricks,
Cluster,
Mission of Burma,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Detroit Cobras,
Mars,
Dark Day,
Jawbox,
The Saints,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Moody Blues,
Idris Muhammad,
Maleditus Sound,
Danielle Patucci,
Electric Prunes,
The Slits,
The Music Machine,
Tears for Fears,
Rapeman,
Avey Tare,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Smiths,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Nick Fraelich,
Suburban Knight,
The Knickerbockers,
The Kinks,
Nation of Ulysses,
World's Most,
Minutemen,
Alphaville,
Q and Not U,
Carl Craig,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Altered Images,
Thompson Twins,
Bill Wells,
Pierre Henry,
H. Thieme,
Yusef Lateef,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Half Japanese,
Eurythmics,
Matthew Halsall,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Velvet Underground,
JFA,
DJ Style,
Second Layer,
Gang Green,
The Divine Comedy,
the Soft Cell,
Alton Ellis,
Joe Finger, Joe Finger, Joe Finger, Joe Finger.
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.