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 Liechtenstein and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 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 Fela Kuti to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Jerry Gold Smith. All the underground hits.
All Red Lorry Yellow Lorry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every FM Einheit 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Electric Prunes,
Robert Hood,
Animal Collective,
The Sisters of Mercy,
These Immortal Souls,
Jeff Mills,
Barrington Levy,
Bob Dylan,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
David Bowie,
The Doobie Brothers,
Jacques Brel,
Vladislav Delay,
MDC,
the Fania All-Stars,
Hashim,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Fela Kuti,
Wasted Youth,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sonic Youth,
The Searchers,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Tubeway Army,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Marine Girls,
Anthony Braxton,
Hasil Adkins,
K-Klass,
Subhumans,
OOIOO,
Los Fastidios,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Flash Fearless,
The Residents,
Skriet,
Josef K,
Rapeman,
Qualms,
Reagan Youth,
Soft Machine,
Heaven 17,
Scientists,
Todd Terry,
Metal Thangz,
The Monochrome Set,
John Holt,
Marvin Gaye,
Angry Samoans,
Dorothy Ashby,
Wally Richardson,
Buzzcocks,
Rekid,
The Monks,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Janne Schatter,
Basic Channel,
Faraquet,
Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics.
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.