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 Norway and from Johannesburg.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Brand Nubian to the grunge 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 The Searchers. All the underground hits.
All Black Bananas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Surgeon 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Marc Almond,
Gang of Four,
Arthur Verocai,
DJ Sneak,
Underground Resistance,
Peter & Gordon,
Sparks,
Lalann,
Ornette Coleman,
Pylon,
Vladislav Delay,
John Foxx,
Roy Ayers,
Television,
Rhythm & Sound,
Au Pairs,
Minnie Riperton,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Marcia Griffiths,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Gang Gang Dance,
Spandau Ballet,
Jandek,
Jacob Miller,
Symarip,
Grey Daturas,
Gang Green,
Franke,
Thee Headcoats,
Hot Snakes,
The Grass Roots,
Unrelated Segments,
The Last Poets,
Stiv Bators,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Thompson Twins,
Excepter,
Index,
Con Funk Shun,
B.T. Express,
Rufus Thomas,
The Trojans,
U.S. Maple,
Camberwell Now,
Arab on Radar,
Radiopuhelimet,
Fela Kuti,
Moebius,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Suburban Knight,
Moby Grape,
Freddie Wadling,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Agitation Free,
AZ,
The Residents,
Donny Hathaway,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Index,
The Associates, The Associates, The Associates, The Associates.
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.