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 Netherlands and from Sao Paulo.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Big Daddy Kane to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Star Department. All the underground hits.
All The Last Poets tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Buckinghams record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Con Funk Shun record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeff Lynne,
Bobby Womack,
Malaria!,
Joy Division,
Index,
Marine Girls,
The Monks,
The Sound,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Funky Four + One,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Jawbox,
The Electric Prunes,
Bluetip,
The Blues Magoos,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Ultravox,
Altered Images,
Darondo,
The Beau Brummels,
Faust,
Alton Ellis,
Sister Nancy,
Blancmange,
Skriet,
T. Rex,
Lindisfarne,
Negative Approach,
Main Source,
Q and Not U,
The Dead C,
The Smoke,
Black Bananas,
The Raincoats,
Lou Christie,
Pet Shop Boys,
These Immortal Souls,
Q65,
The Gladiators,
Rod Modell,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Rotary Connection,
John Lydon,
Tubeway Army,
Brass Construction,
Amon Düül,
Siglo XX,
Magma,
The Durutti Column,
Bronski Beat,
Barrington Levy,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Michelle Simonal,
The Skatalites,
Bauhaus,
Parry Music,
R.M.O.,
Scott Walker,
The Fall,
The Stooges,
Marcia Griffiths,
Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes.
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.