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 Uruguay and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Marvin Gaye to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Oblivians. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Todd Terry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Idris Muhammad record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ice-T,
The Moleskins,
The Blackbyrds,
Gang of Four,
The Martian,
Ornette Coleman,
EPMD,
K-Klass,
the Slits,
Tears for Fears,
The Modern Lovers,
Glambeats Corp.,
Wire,
Fear,
Judy Mowatt,
Das Ding,
Bronski Beat,
The Fortunes,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Slackers,
Curtis Mayfield,
These Immortal Souls,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Monks,
Tubeway Army,
The Neon Judgement,
The Last Poets,
Harmonia,
The Real Kids,
The Stooges,
Section 25,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
DNA,
Smog,
Arcadia,
Arthur Verocai,
Sexual Harrassment,
Jacob Miller,
Pantytec,
Neu!,
Hoover,
Prince Buster,
John Holt,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Liliput,
Ultra Naté,
The Evens,
Delon & Dalcan,
Khruangbin,
Siglo XX,
Parry Music,
Mission of Burma,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
La Düsseldorf,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Dirtbombs,
Brothers Johnson,
Ituana,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.