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 Hungary and from Halifax.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Monolake to the grunge 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 Television Personalities. All the underground hits.
All R.M.O. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Susan Cadogan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Schoolly D record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Depeche Mode,
Aswad,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Toni Rubio,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Mummies,
KRS-One,
Kevin Saunderson,
Ossler,
Stiv Bators,
Organ,
Brick,
The Golliwogs,
Sandy B,
Junior Murvin,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Joy Division,
Flamin' Groovies,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
10cc,
The Gladiators,
Suicide,
The Busters,
The Motions,
Laurel Aitken,
Hashim,
Jimmy McGriff,
Kenny Larkin,
The American Breed,
Clear Light,
Second Layer,
Soul Sonic Force,
Barry Ungar,
Buzzcocks,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Slackers,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Residents,
Sällskapet,
D'Angelo,
Wire,
The Wake,
The Smoke,
Big Daddy Kane,
the Germs,
Robert Wyatt,
48th St. Collective,
Zapp,
Charles Mingus,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Cal Tjader,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Panda Bear,
Morten Harket,
FM Einheit,
X-Ray Spex,
Franke,
The Gories,
Mr. Review,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton.
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.