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 Mali and from Beijing.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Glasgow.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the marimba 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 The Trojans to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Lightning Bolt. All the underground hits.
All Soulsonic Force tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Görl record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABBA,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Shoche,
Mary Jane Girls,
Goldenarms,
Man Eating Sloth,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Kerri Chandler,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Pussy Galore,
Aaron Thompson,
X-Ray Spex,
Lungfish,
Pole,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Fugs,
Babytalk,
Niagra,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Neon Judgement,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Mission of Burma,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Freddie Wadling,
Sex Pistols,
The Pop Group,
Faraquet,
Eric Copeland,
New York Dolls,
Mark Hollis,
Accadde A,
Fela Kuti,
Das Ding,
T. Rex,
K-Klass,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Monks,
The Happenings,
The Count Five,
The Martian,
Anakelly,
Fluxion,
Lightning Bolt,
Albert Ayler,
Harpers Bizarre,
Tom Boy,
Delta 5,
Steve Hackett,
The Index,
Rod Modell,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Circle Jerks,
Avey Tare,
Ossler,
The Mojo Men,
Mo-Dettes,
Robert Görl,
Kenny Larkin,
China Crisis,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade.
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.