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 Costa Rica and from Seoul.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Roxette to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Human League. All the underground hits.
All Gichy Dan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Underground Resistance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 Man Eating Sloth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brick,
The Neon Judgement,
Warsaw,
Rekid,
T. Rex,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Au Pairs,
Terrestrial Tones,
the Bar-Kays,
Grey Daturas,
Saccharine Trust,
Second Layer,
Ice-T,
Josef K,
Q and Not U,
Cecil Taylor,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Basic Channel,
The Dead C,
Hardrive,
Mark Hollis,
Frankie Knuckles,
Crime,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sarah Menescal,
Babytalk,
The Buckinghams,
James White and The Blacks,
New Order,
In Retrospect,
Barry Ungar,
CMW,
Wolf Eyes,
Black Flag,
Theoretical Girls,
Slick Rick,
Neil Young,
Yellowson,
The Busters,
D'Angelo,
Althea and Donna,
Davy DMX,
The Fortunes,
The Victims,
Anakelly,
Bill Near,
Kaleidoscope,
Brass Construction,
Procol Harum,
The Detroit Cobras,
Zapp,
Trumans Water,
Crispian St. Peters,
Magma,
The Mummies,
Sixth Finger,
Smog,
The Pretty Things,
Chris & Cosey,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Ludus,
Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith.
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.