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 Angola and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 chamberlin 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 Roger Hodgson to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Can. All the underground hits.
All Susan Cadogan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nico 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Royal Trux,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Scan 7,
Derrick May,
48th St. Collective,
Gang of Four,
Vainqueur,
Lou Christie,
Desert Stars,
Essential Logic,
The Martian,
Angry Samoans,
Los Fastidios,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Moleskins,
Nirvana,
Dark Day,
Porter Ricks,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Lebanon Hanover,
Minor Threat,
Bush Tetras,
Simply Red,
In Retrospect,
Gang Starr,
Sixth Finger,
Sugar Minott,
Trumans Water,
Joy Division,
Massinfluence,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Mummies,
Anthony Braxton,
Neu!,
Scientists,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Surgeon,
Scrapy,
James White and The Blacks,
Von Mondo,
Brick,
Loose Ends,
the Germs,
Letta Mbulu,
Arab on Radar,
the Fania All-Stars,
Icehouse,
Y Pants,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Average White Band,
F. McDonald,
Lungfish,
the Swans,
Liliput,
Delon & Dalcan,
Carl Craig,
Popol Vuh,
Lalann, Lalann, Lalann, Lalann.
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.