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 Argentina and from Lyon.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
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 Laurel Aitken to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Eurythmics. All the underground hits.
All Cybotron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every June Days record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bob Dylan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marshall Jefferson,
Los Fastidios,
The Mojo Men,
Stiv Bators,
Scan 7,
ABC,
Desert Stars,
Michelle Simonal,
The Buckinghams,
Darondo,
Junior Murvin,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Urselle,
Saccharine Trust,
Banda Bassotti,
Cecil Taylor,
Nirvana,
Pantaleimon,
Nick Fraelich,
Can,
Scion,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Durutti Column,
Nils Olav,
Quantec,
Swell Maps,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Kayak,
Magma,
Con Funk Shun,
Albert Ayler,
Donald Byrd,
Little Man,
Harry Pussy,
Charles Mingus,
Barry Ungar,
The American Breed,
Rakim,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Faust,
Barclay James Harvest,
Kool Moe Dee,
Lee Hazlewood,
H. Thieme,
The Standells,
OOIOO,
The Move,
Alison Limerick,
June of 44,
Spoonie Gee,
The Dirtbombs,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Lucky Dragons,
Barbara Tucker,
Joyce Sims,
Stereo Dub,
Wasted Youth,
Byron Stingily,
D'Angelo,
The Gladiators,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Tim Buckley,
Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic.
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.