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 Turkey and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Aswad. All the underground hits.
All The Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pierre Henry 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 rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New Age Steppers,
Bootsy Collins,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Girls At Our Best!,
Niagra,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Real Kids,
The Knickerbockers,
Audionom,
Jawbox,
Josef K,
The Pretty Things,
The Standells,
Eurythmics,
Funkadelic,
The Move,
Neu!,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Steve Hackett,
Average White Band,
Accadde A,
The Techniques,
This Heat,
The Pop Group,
Gang Gang Dance,
Marcia Griffiths,
Jimmy McGriff,
Cybotron,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Zero Boys,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Music Machine,
Kerri Chandler,
The Motions,
Marshall Jefferson,
Rakim,
Bobby Byrd,
B.T. Express,
The American Breed,
Davy DMX,
Howard Jones,
Bluetip,
Tomorrow,
Michelle Simonal,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Sonics,
Wasted Youth,
Swans,
Anthony Braxton,
Heaven 17,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Gun Club,
LL Cool J,
The Gladiators,
The Tremeloes,
June of 44,
Darondo,
Arcadia,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Pierre Henry,
Joe Smooth,
Stereo Dub,
Iggy Pop,
Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow.
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.