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 United States and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds to the grunge 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 Eric B and Rakim. All the underground hits.
All Q and Not U tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mad Mike record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Matthew Halsall record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Stooges,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Mars,
The Doobie Brothers,
Arcadia,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Freddie Wadling,
CMW,
Blossom Toes,
Grauzone,
Thee Headcoats,
Kerri Chandler,
Donny Hathaway,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Boredoms,
Guru Guru,
Man Eating Sloth,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Lou Christie,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Oblivians,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Ponytail,
The Knickerbockers,
Sam Rivers,
These Immortal Souls,
Smog,
Livin' Joy,
X-102,
Kaleidoscope,
Au Pairs,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Niagra,
Hashim,
Rapeman,
Negative Approach,
The Tremeloes,
Lakeside,
Matthew Halsall,
H. Thieme,
The Offenders,
Althea and Donna,
Barbara Tucker,
Chris & Cosey,
The Martian,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Zeros,
Bobby Sherman,
Boogie Down Productions,
Goldenarms,
The Red Krayola,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Gang Green,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Joe Smooth,
Ice-T,
The Fire Engines,
Morten Harket,
Marvin Gaye,
Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare.
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.