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 Azerbaijan and from Lagos.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 linndrum 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 The New Christs to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Heavy D & The Boyz. All the underground hits.
All Robert Wyatt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Audionom record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Holt,
a-ha,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Nils Olav,
A Certain Ratio,
CMW,
Nik Kershaw,
Tommy Roe,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
David Bowie,
The Fire Engines,
cv313,
Soulsonic Force,
Amon Düül,
Flipper,
R.M.O.,
The Slackers,
World's Most,
The Remains,
Alphaville,
The Fortunes,
Cal Tjader,
the Association,
Alton Ellis,
Dave Gahan,
Glambeats Corp.,
Marine Girls,
The Dead C,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Pere Ubu,
Nas,
Pierre Henry,
Sister Nancy,
Leonard Cohen,
Lou Reed,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Fugs,
Kevin Saunderson,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Last Poets,
Boredoms,
Swell Maps,
Sällskapet,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Toasters,
Trumans Water,
Skarface,
Blossom Toes,
Hashim,
Judy Mowatt,
The Slits,
DNA,
Jeff Lynne,
The J.B.'s,
Hasil Adkins,
Idris Muhammad,
Oneida,
The Tremeloes,
Agent Orange,
Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack.
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.