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 Austria and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Suburban Knight to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Ohio Players. All the underground hits.
All The Angels of Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Starr record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a ABC record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rufus Thomas,
The Cramps,
Sun City Girls,
The Divine Comedy,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The United States of America,
The Monks,
Eden Ahbez,
Deakin,
Marvin Gaye,
Tears for Fears,
John Cale,
A Certain Ratio,
Kerri Chandler,
Tim Buckley,
The Birthday Party,
The Durutti Column,
Franke,
Half Japanese,
Faust,
Parry Music,
Trumans Water,
The Velvet Underground,
Peter & Gordon,
Mad Mike,
The Smiths,
Neil Young,
New York Dolls,
Gastr Del Sol,
Porter Ricks,
Tomorrow,
Glambeats Corp.,
the Germs,
MDC,
Nas,
8 Eyed Spy,
Godley & Creme,
Jawbox,
Tubeway Army,
the Bar-Kays,
The Victims,
Y Pants,
Robert Wyatt,
The Golliwogs,
New Order,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Japan,
The Slits,
The Doobie Brothers,
Circle Jerks,
Maleditus Sound,
Fad Gadget,
Sound Behaviour,
Moby Grape,
Arthur Verocai,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
UT,
Black Sheep,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Anakelly,
Mo-Dettes,
Reagan Youth,
Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon.
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.