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 Japan and from Lyon.
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 Glasgow and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the güiro 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 Symarip 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 The Sonics. All the underground hits.
All Fifty Foot Hose tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang On A Can record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Be Bop Deluxe,
Radio Birdman,
Pagans,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Wolf Eyes,
Motorama,
Graham Central Station,
Morten Harket,
Malaria!,
Ken Boothe,
Parry Music,
Skaos,
Traffic Nightmare,
E-Dancer,
One Last Wish,
The Tremeloes,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Don Cherry,
Goldenarms,
Howard Jones,
the Germs,
Skarface,
the Bar-Kays,
Scion,
Cybotron,
Von Mondo,
Negative Approach,
UT,
Joey Negro,
Mandrill,
Can,
Rekid,
Joe Finger,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Delta 5,
Moss Icon,
Reagan Youth,
John Foxx,
Scratch Acid,
T. Rex,
John Lydon,
Public Image Ltd.,
Procol Harum,
Funkadelic,
EPMD,
David Bowie,
David McCallum,
Rod Modell,
The Pretty Things,
The New Christs,
The Zeros,
Jeru the Damaja,
Wally Richardson,
The Stooges,
Section 25,
Jeff Mills,
Moby Grape,
L. Decosne,
Lalann,
T.S.O.L.,
Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio.
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.