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 Madagascar 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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Minnie Riperton to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish. All the underground hits.
All The Music Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aural Exciters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 a clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Be Bop Deluxe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glambeats Corp.,
Mark Hollis,
Bill Wells,
Fluxion,
Warsaw,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Angry Samoans,
The Selecter,
Graham Central Station,
Nirvana,
Marc Almond,
Faust,
Eric B and Rakim,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Sun Ra,
The Velvet Underground,
Suburban Knight,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Blake Baxter,
Brothers Johnson,
Lakeside,
Pylon,
Inner City,
The Evens,
Todd Terry,
Quantec,
Robert Hood,
Y Pants,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Ralphi Rosario,
Hasil Adkins,
Ultravox,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Donny Hathaway,
Hoover,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Los Fastidios,
Thompson Twins,
Eden Ahbez,
Talk Talk,
Easy Going,
The Knickerbockers,
Blossom Toes,
Joy Division,
Excepter,
R.M.O.,
Avey Tare,
The New Christs,
Soul II Soul,
Fela Kuti,
The Star Department,
Wally Richardson,
Minor Threat,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Searchers,
Porter Ricks,
Sixth Finger,
FM Einheit,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Big Daddy Kane,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.