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 Montenegro and from Toronto.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 organ 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 Neil Young to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All Al Stewart tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boogie Down Productions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Severed Heads record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Machine,
Swell Maps,
Moss Icon,
Can,
Suburban Knight,
The Cramps,
Scion,
Lightning Bolt,
The Moleskins,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Blossom Toes,
June Days,
Brand Nubian,
The Smiths,
Hot Snakes,
The Mummies,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Zero Boys,
Anthony Braxton,
LL Cool J,
Wasted Youth,
JFA,
Archie Shepp,
Marine Girls,
Shoche,
Carl Craig,
Maleditus Sound,
This Heat,
Barbara Tucker,
Ten City,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Television Personalities,
The Gladiators,
Loose Ends,
Sällskapet,
Tom Boy,
Dorothy Ashby,
Second Layer,
The Vogues,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Magazine,
Girls At Our Best!,
Dawn Penn,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Masters at Work,
Freddie Wadling,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Country Teasers,
Mark Hollis,
FM Einheit,
John Cale,
Wally Richardson,
The Count Five,
Grandmaster Flash,
Drive Like Jehu,
Prince Buster,
Scan 7,
Bizarre Inc.,
Gichy Dan,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Nick Fraelich,
Unwound,
Big Daddy Kane,
A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls.
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.