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 Papua New Guinea and from Mexico City.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Pylon to the jazz 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 Suburban Knight. All the underground hits.
All Harpers Bizarre tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ituana 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lalann,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sexual Harrassment,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Popol Vuh,
Sonny Sharrock,
Althea and Donna,
The Gladiators,
Wolf Eyes,
Sonic Youth,
The Toasters,
Faraquet,
Unrelated Segments,
Newcleus,
The Angels of Light,
The Young Rascals,
The Barracudas,
Pantaleimon,
Pylon,
Technova,
Lalo Schifrin,
Barrington Levy,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ice-T,
Jeff Mills,
The Knickerbockers,
The Saints,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Echospace,
Marmalade,
Lou Reed,
The Moody Blues,
The Invisible,
OOIOO,
Gong,
The Slackers,
Lucky Dragons,
Altered Images,
Robert Wyatt,
Infiniti,
Black Sheep,
Outsiders,
Albert Ayler,
Underground Resistance,
a-ha,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Marc Almond,
Rhythm & Sound,
Maurizio,
Colin Newman,
UT,
Eve St. Jones,
Subhumans,
Fatback Band,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Rod Modell,
The Misunderstood,
Funkadelic,
The Count Five,
Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now.
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.