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 Uganda and from Sao Paulo.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 marimba 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 Todd Terry to the grunge 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 The Human League. All the underground hits.
All Connie Case tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Laurel Aitken record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Louis and Bebe Barron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Delon & Dalcan,
Man Eating Sloth,
Subhumans,
The Detroit Cobras,
Outsiders,
Faraquet,
Ronnie Foster,
The Index,
The Shadows of Knight,
Gichy Dan,
the Human League,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Monks,
Thee Headcoats,
Big Daddy Kane,
Janne Schatter,
The Raincoats,
The Smoke,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Sexual Harrassment,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Gun Club,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Hasil Adkins,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Rod Modell,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Spandau Ballet,
Theoretical Girls,
X-101,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Bang On A Can,
Nik Kershaw,
Delta 5,
The Golliwogs,
Fatback Band,
Josef K,
Tubeway Army,
KRS-One,
Q65,
Fluxion,
E-Dancer,
The Saints,
DJ Sneak,
The Busters,
Sunsets and Hearts,
EPMD,
F. McDonald,
Barbara Tucker,
Dave Gahan,
Dawn Penn,
Index,
Banda Bassotti,
Danielle Patucci,
Von Mondo,
The Barracudas,
Tommy Roe,
Bronski Beat,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Durutti Column,
Radiohead,
Symarip, Symarip, Symarip, Symarip.
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.