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 Micronesia and from Madrid.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 linndrum 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 Glenn Branca to the punk 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 Fort Wilson Riot. All the underground hits.
All Yusef Lateef tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lafayette Afro Rock Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arthur Verocai record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Byrd,
Cameo,
Symarip,
Crime,
The Wake,
Livin' Joy,
Outsiders,
Hoover,
Camberwell Now,
Make Up,
The Motions,
Rapeman,
Fela Kuti,
The Human League,
Johnny Clarke,
Jesper Dahlback,
Pussy Galore,
Thompson Twins,
Royal Trux,
Aural Exciters,
The Dirtbombs,
Sugar Minott,
These Immortal Souls,
Mark Hollis,
James White and The Blacks,
Hasil Adkins,
The Alarm Clocks,
Pole,
Reuben Wilson,
The Names,
June of 44,
New Age Steppers,
The Star Department,
ABC,
Rekid,
Bizarre Inc.,
Bush Tetras,
Iggy Pop,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Lucky Dragons,
Fad Gadget,
Television Personalities,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Guru Guru,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Animal Collective,
Robert Wyatt,
Curtis Mayfield,
Delon & Dalcan,
Swans,
Barclay James Harvest,
Marvin Gaye,
Aloha Tigers,
Man Parrish,
Ultravox,
Boogie Down Productions,
Fear,
Urselle,
Underground Resistance,
Jeff Mills,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Victims, The Victims, The Victims, The Victims.
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.