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 Oman and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the dance 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 Charles Mingus. All the underground hits.
All The Smiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New York Dolls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Swell Maps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Public Image Ltd.,
Index,
Ronan,
Maleditus Sound,
Tubeway Army,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Michelle Simonal,
Gabor Szabo,
Sarah Menescal,
Scan 7,
Kurtis Blow,
Flash Fearless,
Letta Mbulu,
New Order,
Lyres,
Ohio Players,
Ultimate Spinach,
Sister Nancy,
Fatback Band,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Judy Mowatt,
Funkadelic,
Ralphi Rosario,
These Immortal Souls,
The Victims,
Terrestrial Tones,
Reagan Youth,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Wake,
Pantytec,
Jimmy McGriff,
Brand Nubian,
Sparks,
Eric Dolphy,
Zero Boys,
The Count Five,
Chris & Cosey,
The Divine Comedy,
Piero Umiliani,
Circle Jerks,
Jacob Miller,
Panda Bear,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
E-Dancer,
Dark Day,
Ice-T,
The Searchers,
Black Moon,
Alton Ellis,
Spandau Ballet,
Technova,
Oblivians,
Cluster,
Roger Hodgson,
Desert Stars,
Lindisfarne,
Scientists,
Gil Scott Heron,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Pagans,
Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front.
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.