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 Tajikistan and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Sex Pistols to the disco 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 Ponytail. All the underground hits.
All New York Dolls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crash Course in Science record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ 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 güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Bowie,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Kurtis Blow,
Ossler,
Franke,
Chris Corsano,
Cybotron,
The Fire Engines,
the Association,
Slave,
Gang Green,
The Zeros,
F. McDonald,
The Angels of Light,
Bobby Byrd,
Tubeway Army,
Jeff Mills,
Mary Jane Girls,
Mars,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The J.B.'s,
Kayak,
the Bar-Kays,
Sarah Menescal,
Nik Kershaw,
The Blues Magoos,
Mo-Dettes,
10cc,
Cal Tjader,
Silicon Teens,
Radio Birdman,
kango's stein massive,
Lightning Bolt,
Babytalk,
Jandek,
The Cramps,
Pussy Galore,
Joy Division,
The Wake,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Chris & Cosey,
Icehouse,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Seeds,
Isaac Hayes,
Von Mondo,
The Sonics,
Darondo,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Skriet,
Lyres,
Bobby Womack,
Grandmaster Flash,
Dennis Brown,
Magma,
Swans,
Infiniti,
Ken Boothe,
Magazine,
Minnie Riperton,
Stetsasonic,
Moebius, Moebius, Moebius, Moebius.
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.