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 Angola and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Magma to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Pussy Galore. All the underground hits.
All Aaron Thompson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Music Machine 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator 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 sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Rites of Spring,
Sixth Finger,
The Leaves,
Dorothy Ashby,
Lakeside,
The Searchers,
Stereo Dub,
Ultra Naté,
Lalann,
the Association,
Accadde A,
Reagan Youth,
Nils Olav,
Siglo XX,
the Fania All-Stars,
Thee Headcoats,
Scratch Acid,
The J.B.'s,
the Bar-Kays,
The Mummies,
Livin' Joy,
Gerry Rafferty,
UT,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
the Sonics,
Isaac Hayes,
Gang Green,
Spandau Ballet,
Susan Cadogan,
Excepter,
Swans,
Alphaville,
The Move,
Joe Finger,
The Knickerbockers,
The Fortunes,
The Fall,
Jeff Mills,
The Grass Roots,
Tim Buckley,
Chris & Cosey,
Pet Shop Boys,
Ultravox,
Intrusion,
Neu!,
Fela Kuti,
Al Stewart,
David Axelrod,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
D'Angelo,
The American Breed,
Soulsonic Force,
Erykah Badu,
Marmalade,
JFA,
Bobbi Humphrey,
10cc,
Curtis Mayfield,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Funkadelic,
Funky Four + One, Funky Four + One, Funky Four + One, Funky Four + One.
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.