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 Peru and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 JFA to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Don Cherry. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Black Dice record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wally Richardson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Public Enemy,
Country Teasers,
Silicon Teens,
Niagra,
PIL,
The Skatalites,
Monolake,
Yazoo,
Flipper,
Gichy Dan,
The Monks,
Soul II Soul,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Associates,
The Stooges,
The Music Machine,
Byron Stingily,
Funky Four + One,
Monks,
Bauhaus,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Audionom,
Deakin,
Pere Ubu,
the Bar-Kays,
The Modern Lovers,
The Walker Brothers,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
David Axelrod,
Section 25,
the Slits,
Man Parrish,
The Fall,
Arab on Radar,
Outsiders,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Cal Tjader,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Litter,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Unwound,
The Selecter,
Gang Gang Dance,
Howard Jones,
The Techniques,
Lakeside,
Sam Rivers,
UT,
Blossom Toes,
CMW,
Rod Modell,
Hasil Adkins,
Shuggie Otis,
Wings,
Parry Music,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
H. Thieme,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Dead Boys,
Marmalade,
The Fire Engines,
Wally Richardson,
Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté.
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.