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 Kitts & Nevis and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Tehran.
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 oboe 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 Oneida to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Q and Not U. All the underground hits.
All Blake Baxter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pantaleimon 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gap Band,
Roxy Music,
Pagans,
Cluster,
Flamin' Groovies,
Sex Pistols,
Television,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Johnny Clarke,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Sällskapet,
Mars,
Theoretical Girls,
Quando Quango,
Joe Smooth,
Scrapy,
Harry Pussy,
The Star Department,
Johnny Osbourne,
Make Up,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Arthur Verocai,
The Offenders,
Piero Umiliani,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Franke,
Black Moon,
John Cale,
Cybotron,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Thompson Twins,
The Doors,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Mr. Review,
Thee Headcoats,
Hardrive,
Khruangbin,
The Misunderstood,
Boogie Down Productions,
Silicon Teens,
Grandmaster Flash,
Robert Görl,
Pussy Galore,
Subhumans,
A Certain Ratio,
The Music Machine,
Jacob Miller,
Deadbeat,
Gang of Four,
Roy Ayers,
Scientists,
The Doobie Brothers,
Qualms,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Walker Brothers,
Talk Talk,
Fat Boys,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Electric Prunes,
Crooked Eye,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson.
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.