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 Solomon Islands 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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and London.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Marvin Gaye to the rap 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 DeepChord presents Echospace. All the underground hits.
All Saccharine Trust tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terror Squad Feat. Camron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Skaos record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba 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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Black Sheep,
ABBA,
Minnie Riperton,
Rekid,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Wasted Youth,
Agent Orange,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
John Foxx,
Brand Nubian,
Cal Tjader,
Symarip,
Stetsasonic,
the Sonics,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Nik Kershaw,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Hot Snakes,
Monks,
The Blues Magoos,
Boredoms,
Man Parrish,
Blake Baxter,
Carl Craig,
Pussy Galore,
Animal Collective,
Jandek,
Amon Düül,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Dirtbombs,
Sun Ra,
Bobby Sherman,
Negative Approach,
Gastr Del Sol,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Matthew Halsall,
The Beau Brummels,
Scott Walker,
T. Rex,
Amon Düül II,
Sun City Girls,
Reagan Youth,
The Grass Roots,
Angry Samoans,
Electric Light Orchestra,
JFA,
Arab on Radar,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Desert Stars,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Happenings,
the Germs,
Warsaw,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Marcia Griffiths,
Black Bananas,
Godley & Creme,
The Wake,
This Heat,
Sound Behaviour, Sound Behaviour, Sound Behaviour, Sound Behaviour.
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.