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 Botswana and from Winnipeg.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Lille.
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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the rhodes 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 World's Most to the disco 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 Wings. All the underground hits.
All The Dead C tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-Ray Spex 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Golliwogs,
Royal Trux,
Quando Quango,
Alison Limerick,
Johnny Clarke,
Joensuu 1685,
The Vogues,
Newcleus,
Mission of Burma,
Drexciya,
Lou Christie,
Gichy Dan,
Gang Starr,
Harmonia,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Los Fastidios,
Derrick May,
Andrew Hill,
Technova,
Aural Exciters,
John Cale,
Agent Orange,
Slave,
Eddi Front,
Robert Görl,
New Order,
Pussy Galore,
Nils Olav,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Bill Near,
Animal Collective,
Reuben Wilson,
Ornette Coleman,
LL Cool J,
Kerri Chandler,
Fad Gadget,
Hardrive,
DJ Sneak,
T.S.O.L.,
Monolake,
The Five Americans,
The Martian,
Wire,
Nico,
Khruangbin,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Mars,
Marshall Jefferson,
Sex Pistols,
Moss Icon,
Sonny Sharrock,
Al Stewart,
Harry Pussy,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Saints,
New Age Steppers,
Johnny Osbourne,
U.S. Maple,
The Standells,
The Remains,
The Alarm Clocks,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
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.