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 Czech Republic and from Mumbai.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 spring reverb 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 Bill Wells to the dance 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 Sexual Harrassment. All the underground hits.
All Moss Icon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 linndrum and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a World's Most record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Goldenarms,
Kerri Chandler,
The Selecter,
Kool Moe Dee,
Yazoo,
The Techniques,
The Residents,
Thee Headcoats,
The Gun Club,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
New Order,
Brick,
Patti Smith,
The Human League,
Nik Kershaw,
Public Enemy,
R.M.O.,
Banda Bassotti,
The Grass Roots,
T. Rex,
Malaria!,
Dark Day,
Roxette,
The Sonics,
Piero Umiliani,
Index,
Marcia Griffiths,
Japan,
Joe Finger,
Pussy Galore,
Monolake,
Avey Tare,
Yusef Lateef,
The Doobie Brothers,
Joensuu 1685,
X-Ray Spex,
The Names,
Reagan Youth,
Amon Düül II,
Jandek,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
the Sonics,
K-Klass,
Groovy Waters,
Minor Threat,
Zero Boys,
Underground Resistance,
The Detroit Cobras,
June Days,
June of 44,
These Immortal Souls,
Wasted Youth,
Visage,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Agitation Free,
Aloha Tigers,
Trumans Water,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Sun Ra,
The Motions,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.