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 France and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 Manchester and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Eden Ahbez to the funk 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 Procol Harum. All the underground hits.
All Rotary Connection tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Parrish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
Mission of Burma,
Sex Pistols,
Pierre Henry,
the Swans,
Cymande,
Jacques Brel,
The Cramps,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Cybotron,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Supertramp,
Tomorrow,
Peter & Gordon,
The Searchers,
Boredoms,
John Holt,
Pylon,
the Fania All-Stars,
Quando Quango,
Archie Shepp,
Slick Rick,
Sixth Finger,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Scott Walker,
The Pop Group,
Max Romeo,
Lalann,
Lyres,
Section 25,
Monks,
Janne Schatter,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Last Poets,
The Walker Brothers,
Alphaville,
The Fire Engines,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Crash Course in Science,
Radiohead,
E-Dancer,
Davy DMX,
Jesper Dahlback,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Martian,
Yellowson,
Al Stewart,
Visage,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Remains,
Symarip,
The Misunderstood,
Gichy Dan,
Trumans Water,
Scrapy,
Gastr Del Sol,
Aaron Thompson,
Mantronix,
Jeff Lynne,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Aural Exciters,
Minutemen,
Curtis Mayfield,
Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle.
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.