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 Kazakhstan and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Judy Mowatt to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 10cc. All the underground hits.
All In Retrospect tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Severed Heads 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spandau Ballet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dead Boys,
Aaron Thompson,
The Saints,
Junior Murvin,
The Red Krayola,
Hasil Adkins,
Tommy Roe,
The Sonics,
KRS-One,
Sonny Sharrock,
Bobby Sherman,
Robert Hood,
Robert Wyatt,
Urselle,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
the Association,
Joy Division,
John Coltrane,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Max Romeo,
48th St. Collective,
The Grass Roots,
Henry Cow,
Skaos,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
MDC,
Bizarre Inc.,
Porter Ricks,
Ultravox,
LL Cool J,
Bobby Womack,
Jacques Brel,
Bill Wells,
The Fuzztones,
Mad Mike,
Skarface,
Yazoo,
K-Klass,
Kerrie Biddell,
Black Sheep,
Sandy B,
MC5,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
X-Ray Spex,
Avey Tare,
Sight & Sound,
Excepter,
Tears for Fears,
Bobby Byrd,
Eric B and Rakim,
Icehouse,
Lower 48,
Duran Duran,
Deepchord,
Robert Görl,
Masters at Work,
June of 44,
The Raincoats,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity.
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.