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 Cameroon and from Houston.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 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 Althea and Donna to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Talk Talk. All the underground hits.
All Boredoms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Knickerbockers 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a kango's stein massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Agent Orange,
Spandau Ballet,
Sexual Harrassment,
Mo-Dettes,
Kenny Larkin,
Matthew Bourne,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Albert Ayler,
The Cowsills,
Patti Smith,
The Fall,
The Monochrome Set,
Lou Christie,
Unwound,
Guru Guru,
Pulsallama,
Deakin,
The Beau Brummels,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Gichy Dan,
Theoretical Girls,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Kayak,
Dorothy Ashby,
Maurizio,
The Blues Magoos,
Royal Trux,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Davy DMX,
The Index,
Bob Dylan,
Glenn Branca,
Eddi Front,
The Star Department,
Das Ding,
Motorama,
Minor Threat,
The Moleskins,
Essential Logic,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Alton Ellis,
Rakim,
Scion,
Clear Light,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Colin Newman,
Rekid,
Gong,
Soulsonic Force,
The Smoke,
Trumans Water,
Cybotron,
Ludus,
Niagra,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Robert Görl,
Cal Tjader,
ABBA,
Blancmange,
Sex Pistols,
Freddie Wadling,
Duran Duran,
Echo & the Bunnymen, Echo & the Bunnymen, Echo & the Bunnymen, Echo & the Bunnymen.
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.