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 Russia and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Robert Hood to the funk 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 John Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Larry & the Blue Notes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Kinks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rites of Spring record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Au Pairs,
Sandy B,
The Move,
Laurel Aitken,
Chrome,
R.M.O.,
Lou Christie,
Fluxion,
Eden Ahbez,
Robert Hood,
Marmalade,
T.S.O.L.,
Hashim,
Grauzone,
The Electric Prunes,
David Axelrod,
Gang Starr,
Sister Nancy,
the Fania All-Stars,
Marshall Jefferson,
Fela Kuti,
Subhumans,
Masters at Work,
Piero Umiliani,
Groovy Waters,
Sex Pistols,
The Black Dice,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Nation of Ulysses,
John Foxx,
Mission of Burma,
Silicon Teens,
kango's stein massive,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Derrick May,
The Associates,
Brand Nubian,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Rotary Connection,
Big Daddy Kane,
Clear Light,
Barbara Tucker,
Theoretical Girls,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Basic Channel,
Das Ding,
Funky Four + One,
The Dirtbombs,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Depeche Mode,
The Barracudas,
Amon Düül,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Toni Rubio,
The Gap Band,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Suburban Knight,
Cheater Slicks,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Marvin Gaye,
Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock.
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.