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 Suriname and from New York.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Basic Channel 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 Pet Shop Boys. All the underground hits.
All Barbara Tucker tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ituana 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camberwell Now,
Gerry Rafferty,
Pussy Galore,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Eden Ahbez,
Television,
Intrusion,
Minny Pops,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Wire,
Smog,
MDC,
Shuggie Otis,
Bronski Beat,
Tomorrow,
Joe Finger,
Crispian St. Peters,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Amon Düül II,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ohio Players,
World's Most,
Black Bananas,
The Fuzztones,
Black Flag,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Quantec,
Brothers Johnson,
Stockholm Monsters,
John Foxx,
Dark Day,
Excepter,
Nas,
Zero Boys,
Chris Corsano,
Jeff Mills,
The Barracudas,
Eurythmics,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Techniques,
The Alarm Clocks,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Barrington Levy,
James White and The Blacks,
Grey Daturas,
Kurtis Blow,
Slick Rick,
Eric Dolphy,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Judy Mowatt,
Rapeman,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Kas Product,
The Neon Judgement,
Echospace,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx.
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.