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 the UAE and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 organ 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 Cheater Slicks to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All Symarip tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roxy Music 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
Lyres,
Can,
The Fugs,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Knickerbockers,
Fat Boys,
Eve St. Jones,
Ronan,
The Seeds,
The Martian,
Rites of Spring,
James White and The Blacks,
Suicide,
Idris Muhammad,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Sound,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Johnny Clarke,
Rotary Connection,
Vainqueur,
The Durutti Column,
Howard Jones,
The Skatalites,
Fear,
Laurel Aitken,
Technova,
Pylon,
Public Enemy,
Newcleus,
The Pretty Things,
Darondo,
Hasil Adkins,
Panda Bear,
Sonny Sharrock,
Stiv Bators,
the Germs,
Moby Grape,
Steve Hackett,
Boz Scaggs,
Jerry's Kids,
Joensuu 1685,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Dead C,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Kevin Saunderson,
Thee Headcoats,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Detroit Cobras,
Chrome,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Sixth Finger,
Blake Baxter,
Todd Terry,
The Pop Group,
Eddi Front,
Sandy B,
Buzzcocks,
The Dirtbombs,
The Modern Lovers,
Television,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx.
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.