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 Turkmenistan and from Tehran.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Glasgow.
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 marimba 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 Eurythmics to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs. All the underground hits.
All Trumans Water tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Porter Ricks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joe Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Graham Central Station,
Tears for Fears,
Pharoah Sanders,
the Fania All-Stars,
EPMD,
Neu!,
Sex Pistols,
Television Personalities,
The Gladiators,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Faust,
Brothers Johnson,
Amon Düül,
the Swans,
The Cure,
Dual Sessions,
Erykah Badu,
The Buckinghams,
Circle Jerks,
Wings,
The Electric Prunes,
Alphaville,
Joe Finger,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Absolute Body Control,
The Last Poets,
Aloha Tigers,
The Index,
Freddie Wadling,
The Skatalites,
Make Up,
The Neon Judgement,
Mark Hollis,
KRS-One,
Traffic Nightmare,
Half Japanese,
Flamin' Groovies,
Dennis Brown,
Theoretical Girls,
New York Dolls,
Rapeman,
Hoover,
Main Source,
Danielle Patucci,
Essential Logic,
Jacob Miller,
Ronnie Foster,
Jacques Brel,
Zero Boys,
Idris Muhammad,
F. McDonald,
The Residents,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Doors,
Babytalk,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Tim Buckley,
Mars,
Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry.
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.