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 Belarus and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 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 Desert Stars to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Neon Judgement. All the underground hits.
All Manfred Mann's Earth Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harpers Bizarre record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a a-ha record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bad Manners,
Moss Icon,
June Days,
Technova,
the Soft Cell,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Crooked Eye,
U.S. Maple,
One Last Wish,
Suicide,
The Cowsills,
Blancmange,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Talk Talk,
Oblivians,
Symarip,
Gang Starr,
Mission of Burma,
Maurizio,
Ken Boothe,
Funky Four + One,
Excepter,
Gabor Szabo,
Eric Dolphy,
Lucky Dragons,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Aloha Tigers,
New Age Steppers,
Minutemen,
David Axelrod,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Pretty Things,
Wings,
Patti Smith,
F. McDonald,
The American Breed,
Mark Hollis,
Metal Thangz,
Colin Newman,
Roy Ayers,
JFA,
Man Parrish,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Sonics,
The Blackbyrds,
Gastr Del Sol,
Crash Course in Science,
The Red Krayola,
Radiohead,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Dead C,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Hasil Adkins,
Jeff Mills,
Ice-T,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Public Enemy,
Thompson Twins,
Rufus Thomas,
Pierre Henry,
Sonic Youth,
Vainqueur,
Unwound,
Echo & the Bunnymen, Echo & the Bunnymen, Echo & the Bunnymen, Echo & the Bunnymen.
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.