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 Philippines and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Sister Nancy to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Jeru the Damaja. All the underground hits.
All Sight & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Depeche Mode record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Graham Central Station record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Procol Harum,
H. Thieme,
Barbara Tucker,
Lightning Bolt,
The Index,
Toni Rubio,
Pierre Henry,
Mo-Dettes,
Minny Pops,
Juan Atkins,
The Seeds,
John Coltrane,
AZ,
Mission of Burma,
Kas Product,
Urselle,
Bootsy Collins,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Kaleidoscope,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Jeff Lynne,
Fat Boys,
Motorama,
Black Pus,
Heaven 17,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Move,
Rufus Thomas,
In Retrospect,
Marine Girls,
Pantytec,
Joensuu 1685,
Ice-T,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Joe Finger,
John Lydon,
Dave Gahan,
Al Stewart,
Nik Kershaw,
Index,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Terrestrial Tones,
Lalann,
Prince Buster,
Bobby Byrd,
Eric Dolphy,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Harmonia,
X-Ray Spex,
Technova,
Cecil Taylor,
Section 25,
Pulsallama,
Mary Jane Girls,
Sparks,
ABBA,
The Music Machine,
Country Teasers,
Tres Demented,
Ossler,
Neu!,
Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras.
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.