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 France and from Jakarta.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Animal Collective to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All Mr. Review tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Silicon Teens 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 rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Khruangbin,
Dark Day,
A Certain Ratio,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
CMW,
Zapp,
Archie Shepp,
Newcleus,
Rosa Yemen,
The Toasters,
The Birthday Party,
Chris Corsano,
Marvin Gaye,
Surgeon,
Saccharine Trust,
Sparks,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Mantronix,
Sonny Sharrock,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
David Axelrod,
Sandy B,
Black Moon,
Lee Hazlewood,
Faraquet,
Wolf Eyes,
The Golliwogs,
JFA,
Bobby Sherman,
The Tremeloes,
Marshall Jefferson,
David McCallum,
D'Angelo,
X-102,
The Electric Prunes,
Mr. Review,
Youth Brigade,
Desert Stars,
The Sound,
Jawbox,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Eddi Front,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Red Krayola,
Althea and Donna,
FM Einheit,
K-Klass,
Colin Newman,
Terry Callier,
Lou Reed,
New Age Steppers,
Bill Near,
Graham Central Station,
Jacob Miller,
Ituana,
Porter Ricks,
Pagans,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Pantytec,
The Flesh Eaters,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Fortunes,
New Order,
The Royal Family And The Poor, The Royal Family And The Poor, The Royal Family And The Poor, The Royal Family And The Poor.
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.