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 Liechtenstein and from Tokyo.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 harpsichord 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 Reuben Wilson to the grunge 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 Pussy Galore. All the underground hits.
All Rosa Yemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chris Corsano record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
AZ,
The Black Dice,
Desert Stars,
F. McDonald,
Television Personalities,
PIL,
FM Einheit,
Black Sheep,
The Dirtbombs,
Bill Near,
Howard Jones,
Dennis Brown,
Donny Hathaway,
Tears for Fears,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Steve Hackett,
Junior Murvin,
Minnie Riperton,
Ultimate Spinach,
The American Breed,
Be Bop Deluxe,
MDC,
Agitation Free,
Ohio Players,
The Golliwogs,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Angry Samoans,
Ludus,
Tommy Roe,
Alphaville,
Icehouse,
The Velvet Underground,
The Detroit Cobras,
a-ha,
Quando Quango,
Skaos,
Scratch Acid,
Clear Light,
Sister Nancy,
Sonny Sharrock,
Colin Newman,
UT,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Jacques Brel,
Eurythmics,
Ken Boothe,
John Lydon,
Brick,
Deepchord,
Sparks,
Darondo,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Zapp,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Gang Gang Dance,
Rekid,
The Young Rascals,
the Soft Cell,
Marvin Gaye,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Kinks,
Parry Music, Parry Music, Parry Music, Parry Music.
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.