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 Guatemala and from Madrid.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Hong Kong.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 48th St. Collective to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Section 25 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yaz 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Dolphy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donny Hathaway,
Motorama,
Neil Young,
Arthur Verocai,
Dennis Brown,
Fela Kuti,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Rufus Thomas,
Al Stewart,
The Standells,
EPMD,
Pulsallama,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Names,
Judy Mowatt,
Dawn Penn,
The Five Americans,
Sun Ra,
World's Most,
The Moody Blues,
Archie Shepp,
Marc Almond,
Bobby Womack,
Surgeon,
The Index,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Buzzcocks,
Maurizio,
Masters at Work,
Zero Boys,
8 Eyed Spy,
Nation of Ulysses,
Roxy Music,
Reuben Wilson,
Au Pairs,
Lalo Schifrin,
Man Eating Sloth,
Swans,
Carl Craig,
Darondo,
Technova,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Essential Logic,
Yellowson,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Gerry Rafferty,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Stereo Dub,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Golliwogs,
Eric Copeland,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Monks,
Boredoms,
Howard Jones,
Pierre Henry,
Kevin Saunderson,
John Lydon,
The Grass Roots,
Skriet,
Yaz,
Hasil Adkins,
The Beau Brummels,
Intrusion,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.