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 Slovakia and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 sitar 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 Mo-Dettes to the dance 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 Robert Görl. All the underground hits.
All Dorothy Ashby tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Shoche record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
a-ha,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Babytalk,
Bad Manners,
James White and The Blacks,
Trumans Water,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Saccharine Trust,
Duran Duran,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Move,
Arcadia,
Todd Terry,
Derrick Morgan,
AZ,
Grey Daturas,
The Cure,
Arab on Radar,
The Martian,
Cheater Slicks,
Kevin Saunderson,
Skriet,
Niagra,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Lucky Dragons,
Quantec,
Pussy Galore,
Tim Buckley,
The Sonics,
Minny Pops,
Man Parrish,
The Divine Comedy,
Mad Mike,
John Holt,
Kayak,
Jimmy McGriff,
Lakeside,
Ohio Players,
David McCallum,
Thompson Twins,
Drexciya,
Susan Cadogan,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Excepter,
Ituana,
Eli Mardock,
Pierre Henry,
Fifty Foot Hose,
kango's stein massive,
Peter and Kerry,
Oneida,
Yazoo,
Bootsy Collins,
Robert Wyatt,
Liliput,
Scientists,
The Doors,
The Cramps,
Brothers Johnson,
Toni Rubio,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.