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 Honduras and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Toni Rubio to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Royal Trux. All the underground hits.
All The Birthday Party tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Maleditus Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rotary Connection,
Angry Samoans,
Suburban Knight,
The Star Department,
Symarip,
Sly & The Family Stone,
K-Klass,
X-101,
Cybotron,
The Red Krayola,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Young Marble Giants,
Joe Smooth,
Lungfish,
The Sound,
Clear Light,
Dead Boys,
Severed Heads,
Hashim,
Popol Vuh,
Colin Newman,
Pussy Galore,
The Alarm Clocks,
Stereo Dub,
Wire,
Andrew Hill,
Mark Hollis,
Wally Richardson,
Sällskapet,
Cluster,
Marmalade,
Fad Gadget,
Tom Boy,
Reuben Wilson,
Dorothy Ashby,
Toni Rubio,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Drive Like Jehu,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Sight & Sound,
The Buckinghams,
Lebanon Hanover,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Trojans,
The Residents,
Matthew Halsall,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Faust,
Black Sheep,
Idris Muhammad,
Jesper Dahlback,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Black Bananas,
T.S.O.L.,
Nik Kershaw,
The Standells,
Duran Duran,
Gang of Four,
AZ,
The Barracudas,
Fluxion,
The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers.
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.