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 South Sudan and from Halifax.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Tehran.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 The United States of America to the grime 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 Bob Dylan. All the underground hits.
All Black Moon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Q and Not U record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Freddie Wadling,
Kurtis Blow,
The Doors,
The Happenings,
Kerrie Biddell,
Soul II Soul,
Buzzcocks,
Model 500,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Oneida,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Detroit Cobras,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Monks,
The Fuzztones,
Heaven 17,
Marine Girls,
Joey Negro,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Jimmy McGriff,
Lucky Dragons,
Cal Tjader,
Japan,
Soft Machine,
Shuggie Otis,
Minny Pops,
8 Eyed Spy,
Cymande,
The Last Poets,
Pole,
Chris Corsano,
Infiniti,
The Pop Group,
Audionom,
Todd Terry,
Tomorrow,
Rod Modell,
The Leaves,
Cecil Taylor,
Malaria!,
Man Parrish,
Hot Snakes,
Flipper,
Dorothy Ashby,
Neil Young,
Connie Case,
the Germs,
Ronnie Foster,
Agent Orange,
Shoche,
The Mummies,
Kenny Larkin,
Loose Ends,
Al Stewart,
The Move,
Q and Not U,
The Velvet Underground,
Roger Hodgson,
The Monochrome Set,
Derrick Morgan,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Remains,
Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye.
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.