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 Antigua and from Woodstock.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 snare 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 Cal Tjader to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Dennis Brown. All the underground hits.
All Colin Newman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Soft Cell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Inner City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
Don Cherry,
Thee Headcoats,
Agent Orange,
Shoche,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Fat Boys,
The Divine Comedy,
The Electric Prunes,
Aural Exciters,
Brick,
The Seeds,
UT,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Grey Daturas,
The Black Dice,
Marshall Jefferson,
Joensuu 1685,
Avey Tare,
Television Personalities,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Iggy Pop,
Reuben Wilson,
The Mummies,
The Gladiators,
Rotary Connection,
The Offenders,
Radio Birdman,
Dawn Penn,
Marmalade,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Barbara Tucker,
Moss Icon,
Visage,
Harry Pussy,
Traffic Nightmare,
Colin Newman,
The New Christs,
OOIOO,
Amon Düül,
Massinfluence,
This Heat,
Stereo Dub,
Hot Snakes,
The United States of America,
Funky Four + One,
The Fugs,
Joey Negro,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Dark Day,
Mr. Review,
Maleditus Sound,
Ronan,
Blancmange,
Hoover,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Altered Images,
Althea and Donna,
Ituana,
Connie Case, Connie Case, Connie Case, Connie Case.
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.