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 Ethiopia and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 Grandmaster Flash to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Gerry Rafferty. All the underground hits.
All Depeche Mode tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Walker Brothers 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Piero Umiliani record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Letta Mbulu,
Mr. Review,
Wally Richardson,
Ice-T,
Yaz,
Glambeats Corp.,
FM Einheit,
Excepter,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Yellowson,
Q65,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Mantronix,
Boogie Down Productions,
Duran Duran,
Can,
Fluxion,
Warsaw,
Schoolly D,
Royal Trux,
Youth Brigade,
Deakin,
Graham Central Station,
Quadrant,
Matthew Halsall,
Man Parrish,
Skaos,
Deepchord,
Pere Ubu,
the Normal,
Bobby Womack,
Eddi Front,
The Beau Brummels,
World's Most,
The Red Krayola,
Yusef Lateef,
The Last Poets,
Mars,
Shoche,
Visage,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Negative Approach,
The Human League,
Kerrie Biddell,
Blancmange,
Pagans,
U.S. Maple,
the Sonics,
Outsiders,
The Count Five,
Connie Case,
Idris Muhammad,
The Moody Blues,
The Gladiators,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Popol Vuh,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
F. McDonald,
Gastr Del Sol,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Wolf Eyes,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Bauhaus,
Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun.
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.