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 Spain and from Bologna.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Matthew Halsall to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Leonard Cohen. All the underground hits.
All Liaisons Dangereuses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Soft Cell 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Black Sheep,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Maurizio,
Television Personalities,
cv313,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Black Bananas,
Big Daddy Kane,
UT,
The Cure,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Panda Bear,
Electric Prunes,
Quando Quango,
Altered Images,
8 Eyed Spy,
Funky Four + One,
Ice-T,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Au Pairs,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Minnie Riperton,
The Slits,
Barclay James Harvest,
Joey Negro,
Bobby Sherman,
Scott Walker,
Ultravox,
Marcia Griffiths,
Los Fastidios,
Harpers Bizarre,
Roxy Music,
The Pretty Things,
The Busters,
Gabor Szabo,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Black Dice,
R.M.O.,
Barry Ungar,
Steve Hackett,
Eve St. Jones,
The Beau Brummels,
Bronski Beat,
Audionom,
Judy Mowatt,
Joe Finger,
PIL,
Pussy Galore,
The Cramps,
The Standells,
Ralphi Rosario,
Ken Boothe,
Minutemen,
Delon & Dalcan,
Stetsasonic,
the Soft Cell,
Joe Smooth,
Robert Hood,
Niagra,
The Invisible,
Sonic Youth,
Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan.
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.