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 Swaziland and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 B.T. Express to the grime 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 Sound Behaviour. All the underground hits.
All Darondo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Donny Hathaway record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Busters,
Porter Ricks,
Althea and Donna,
Niagra,
Kayak,
the Fania All-Stars,
Funky Four + One,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Archie Shepp,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Oneida,
Sex Pistols,
H. Thieme,
Man Parrish,
Matthew Halsall,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Alarm Clocks,
John Holt,
Banda Bassotti,
Easy Going,
The Walker Brothers,
The Young Rascals,
In Retrospect,
X-101,
Outsiders,
Cheater Slicks,
Massinfluence,
Cecil Taylor,
Qualms,
Graham Central Station,
Carl Craig,
Adolescents,
Sparks,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Bronski Beat,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Black Dice,
JFA,
The Tremeloes,
Lalo Schifrin,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Dual Sessions,
Accadde A,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Scan 7,
Altered Images,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Jawbox,
Laurel Aitken,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Scott Walker,
Fear,
Maleditus Sound,
John Foxx,
Wasted Youth,
Negative Approach,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Gastr Del Sol,
Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja.
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.