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 Bahrain and from Johannesburg.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Gichy Dan to the crunk 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 Fuzztones. All the underground hits.
All Soul II Soul tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultra Naté record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Television,
Matthew Halsall,
The Selecter,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
John Coltrane,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Offenders,
Althea and Donna,
Black Sheep,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jeff Mills,
Sonic Youth,
B.T. Express,
The Red Krayola,
La Düsseldorf,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Dark Day,
Lower 48,
Franke,
Deepchord,
Fat Boys,
Kool Moe Dee,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Cecil Taylor,
Amon Düül,
The Pretty Things,
Soul Sonic Force,
Organ,
The Count Five,
Nation of Ulysses,
Dorothy Ashby,
Tim Buckley,
The Last Poets,
Ken Boothe,
Flipper,
The New Christs,
The Doors,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Y Pants,
Cameo,
Yellowson,
The Techniques,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Massinfluence,
Camberwell Now,
Half Japanese,
Quando Quango,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Move,
Brand Nubian,
The Evens,
Marcia Griffiths,
Sight & Sound,
The Stooges,
Judy Mowatt,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Spoonie Gee,
Rakim,
Rapeman,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Cure, The Cure, The Cure, The Cure.
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.