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 Iceland and from Stockholm.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Dawn Penn. All the underground hits.
All Charles Mingus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Bowie 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Move record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hot Snakes,
Joe Smooth,
Soft Cell,
Bill Near,
James White and The Blacks,
Man Eating Sloth,
Dual Sessions,
Maleditus Sound,
Quantec,
Eddi Front,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Smiths,
Siglo XX,
Organ,
MC5,
New Order,
H. Thieme,
The Dave Clark Five,
Goldenarms,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Gang Gang Dance,
Pantaleimon,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Blackbyrds,
The Techniques,
The Gap Band,
Nils Olav,
Albert Ayler,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sun Ra,
Kaleidoscope,
Brick,
Erasure,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Jacob Miller,
Godley & Creme,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Red Krayola,
Country Teasers,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Aaron Thompson,
The Dead C,
The Raincoats,
Robert Wyatt,
Colin Newman,
Monolake,
Black Sheep,
Glambeats Corp.,
Suburban Knight,
Howard Jones,
The Residents,
Mission of Burma,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Moleskins,
Tomorrow,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Circle Jerks,
Radiohead,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Golliwogs,
Pussy Galore,
Slick Rick,
Fear, Fear, Fear, Fear.
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.