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 Samoa and from Winnipeg.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 harpsichord 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 Y Pants to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All The Knickerbockers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funkadelic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pierre Henry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Animal Collective,
The Dead C,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Stiv Bators,
Slave,
Gichy Dan,
Blancmange,
The Gladiators,
The Moody Blues,
The Pretty Things,
kango's stein massive,
The Names,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Kas Product,
Jacob Miller,
Fluxion,
Outsiders,
The Leaves,
The Alarm Clocks,
New York Dolls,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Second Layer,
KRS-One,
Tubeway Army,
Soul Sonic Force,
Buzzcocks,
Ituana,
Pharoah Sanders,
Theoretical Girls,
The Flesh Eaters,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Marvin Gaye,
Amon Düül,
Don Cherry,
Robert Hood,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Flash Fearless,
Moby Grape,
Hashim,
Fatback Band,
Television Personalities,
Vladislav Delay,
Sex Pistols,
The Young Rascals,
Robert Görl,
John Cale,
Dead Boys,
Public Image Ltd.,
Scan 7,
Tres Demented,
Deakin,
Procol Harum,
Ken Boothe,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Echospace,
Gang Gang Dance,
Mo-Dettes,
The Fuzztones,
Marine Girls,
The Blackbyrds,
the Soft Cell,
Groovy Waters,
Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants.
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.