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 Moldova and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 Taipei and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 808 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 Neu! to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Motorama. All the underground hits.
All Robert Wyatt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Fraelich record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Kinks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Matthew Halsall,
Babytalk,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Smog,
The Pop Group,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Zeros,
David Bowie,
The Raincoats,
Fat Boys,
The Five Americans,
U.S. Maple,
Peter and Kerry,
Minnie Riperton,
a-ha,
Junior Murvin,
T. Rex,
Jeru the Damaja,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Zapp,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Y Pants,
Morten Harket,
Scratch Acid,
Gang of Four,
The Slackers,
Siglo XX,
Thee Headcoats,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Roy Ayers,
Slick Rick,
Rufus Thomas,
Clear Light,
Black Pus,
John Coltrane,
Rites of Spring,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Trumans Water,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
the Association,
Erasure,
The Litter,
John Lydon,
Jeff Mills,
Boz Scaggs,
Minutemen,
Pantytec,
Brick,
Jesper Dahlback,
Franke,
The Cramps,
Tropical Tobacco,
Quantec,
Los Fastidios,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Roxy Music,
Man Eating Sloth,
Rosa Yemen,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Mummies,
Dark Day,
Reuben Wilson, Reuben Wilson, Reuben Wilson, Reuben Wilson.
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.