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 Syria and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 arpeggiator 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Buzzcocks. All the underground hits.
All Bob Dylan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Banda Bassotti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ludus,
Byron Stingily,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Morten Harket,
Panda Bear,
the Fania All-Stars,
Fat Boys,
The Sonics,
Ultravox,
Los Fastidios,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Joe Smooth,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sparks,
Adolescents,
Laurel Aitken,
Neil Young,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Index,
Pagans,
Delta 5,
The Red Krayola,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Cowsills,
Chris & Cosey,
Agent Orange,
Quantec,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sun Ra,
Tres Demented,
Sällskapet,
Hardrive,
John Lydon,
This Heat,
48th St. Collective,
Charles Mingus,
Lalann,
Amon Düül II,
Youth Brigade,
Black Flag,
Yazoo,
Smog,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Man Eating Sloth,
Jacques Brel,
Liliput,
The Gladiators,
Bobby Byrd,
Kerri Chandler,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Porter Ricks,
Altered Images,
KRS-One,
Archie Shepp,
Deepchord,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Kayak,
Minnie Riperton,
Ice-T,
Cameo,
Dead Boys,
kango's stein massive, kango's stein massive, kango's stein massive, kango's stein massive.
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.