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 Ghana and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 oboe 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 Donald Byrd 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 Joyce Sims. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mummies record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erasure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Surgeon,
The Human League,
Kerrie Biddell,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Man Eating Sloth,
Eden Ahbez,
Mr. Review,
Todd Terry,
Blossom Toes,
Quadrant,
Outsiders,
Pylon,
Talk Talk,
Joey Negro,
Interpol,
Peter and Kerry,
Little Man,
Pere Ubu,
Hot Snakes,
Darondo,
Metal Thangz,
Roxy Music,
Dave Gahan,
Dual Sessions,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Aswad,
Popol Vuh,
The Red Krayola,
Carl Craig,
Robert Görl,
Sonny Sharrock,
48th St. Collective,
The Martian,
Jeff Mills,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Drexciya,
Johnny Osbourne,
Shoche,
The Cramps,
Bob Dylan,
Eddi Front,
Tubeway Army,
Terry Callier,
Rhythm & Sound,
Grauzone,
Gang Gang Dance,
OOIOO,
Kayak,
The Slits,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Al Stewart,
R.M.O.,
Kurtis Blow,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Thompson Twins,
Ludus,
Moss Icon,
The Grass Roots,
Aloha Tigers,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Crime,
Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish.
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.