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 Iran and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Sexual Harrassment to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. All the underground hits.
All U.S. Maple tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fluxion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wolf Eyes,
Organ,
Peter and Kerry,
Gil Scott Heron,
Warren Ellis,
Nation of Ulysses,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Soft Machine,
Kerri Chandler,
The Residents,
Frankie Knuckles,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
CMW,
Quantec,
Minnie Riperton,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sound Behaviour,
Jeff Mills,
Hardrive,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Iggy Pop,
Maleditus Sound,
The Smiths,
Sex Pistols,
Basic Channel,
Roxy Music,
Pole,
Bobby Byrd,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Soul II Soul,
Mad Mike,
Tears for Fears,
Minutemen,
Althea and Donna,
Sonny Sharrock,
Talk Talk,
Brass Construction,
Susan Cadogan,
Jawbox,
Technova,
Judy Mowatt,
The Vogues,
Boogie Down Productions,
Minor Threat,
The Motions,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Newcleus,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bad Manners,
Archie Shepp,
Pylon,
Sällskapet,
Monks,
Deadbeat,
Average White Band,
Henry Cow,
Curtis Mayfield,
Juan Atkins,
Crime,
Bizarre Inc.,
In Retrospect,
Robert Wyatt,
Sun City Girls,
Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic.
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.