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 St Lucia 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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Joensuu 1685 to the crunk 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 Jimmy McGriff. All the underground hits.
All The Associates tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Sheep 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Derrick Morgan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Con Funk Shun,
MC5,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
These Immortal Souls,
Magazine,
Sonic Youth,
Neil Young,
The Smoke,
Ken Boothe,
Ten City,
Pagans,
Trumans Water,
Das Ding,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Drive Like Jehu,
Inner City,
Tropical Tobacco,
D'Angelo,
Sugar Minott,
Sun Ra,
The Walker Brothers,
La Düsseldorf,
The Electric Prunes,
Johnny Clarke,
Pussy Galore,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
June Days,
Gang Green,
Swans,
Jeru the Damaja,
Scan 7,
The Gories,
Country Joe & The Fish,
the Germs,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Golliwogs,
Sixth Finger,
Dual Sessions,
The Dead C,
Organ,
Nils Olav,
Drexciya,
Duran Duran,
Judy Mowatt,
Camberwell Now,
Idris Muhammad,
Rapeman,
The Young Rascals,
The Mojo Men,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Young Marble Giants,
Beasts of Bourbon,
David Bowie,
Radio Birdman,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Knickerbockers,
Harmonia,
John Cale,
Oblivians,
The Index,
Rekid, Rekid, Rekid, Rekid.
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.