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 Germany and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 snare 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 Siglo XX 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 Terrestrial Tones. All the underground hits.
All Desert Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roger Hodgson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tim Buckley,
The Fortunes,
Sandy B,
Minnie Riperton,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Fugazi,
John Coltrane,
Pussy Galore,
Arthur Verocai,
John Cale,
Bill Wells,
Duran Duran,
Surgeon,
Main Source,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Chrome,
Arab on Radar,
Country Teasers,
Throbbing Gristle,
Graham Central Station,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Ronnie Foster,
Archie Shepp,
The Names,
The Red Krayola,
Sam Rivers,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Zeros,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Fad Gadget,
Urselle,
Gong,
Radio Birdman,
Lindisfarne,
DJ Sneak,
Pulsallama,
Nik Kershaw,
Das Ding,
a-ha,
Harpers Bizarre,
Don Cherry,
Outsiders,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
David McCallum,
World's Most,
The Real Kids,
KRS-One,
Marvin Gaye,
Warren Ellis,
Clear Light,
Sarah Menescal,
Procol Harum,
Boredoms,
Public Enemy,
Joey Negro,
Camberwell Now,
The Golliwogs,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Louis and Bebe Barron, Louis and Bebe Barron, Louis and Bebe Barron, Louis and Bebe Barron.
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.