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 Ireland and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 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 The Doobie Brothers to the techno 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 The Walker Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Roger Hodgson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Inner City 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a D'Angelo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Slackers,
DJ Sneak,
Black Sheep,
These Immortal Souls,
Delon & Dalcan,
Audionom,
Bobby Sherman,
Tubeway Army,
The Move,
Fad Gadget,
Dave Gahan,
Banda Bassotti,
Ornette Coleman,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
James Chance & The Contortions,
La Düsseldorf,
Rakim,
Black Bananas,
Simply Red,
The Moleskins,
Gang Green,
Sonic Youth,
The Dirtbombs,
Kool Moe Dee,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Toni Rubio,
8 Eyed Spy,
MDC,
Little Man,
Buzzcocks,
Lungfish,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The New Christs,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
U.S. Maple,
Sällskapet,
The Last Poets,
The Grass Roots,
UT,
Symarip,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Whodini,
Aaron Thompson,
Porter Ricks,
The Slits,
Procol Harum,
Carl Craig,
The Five Americans,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Camberwell Now,
Sight & Sound,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Arthur Verocai,
Bootsy Collins,
Al Stewart,
Hot Snakes,
Lalann,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.