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 Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 synthesizer 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 Ronnie Foster to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Unwound. All the underground hits.
All Mantronix tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Banda Bassotti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Flag,
Fat Boys,
Suburban Knight,
Sound Behaviour,
Saccharine Trust,
Fatback Band,
Marc Almond,
Sonny Sharrock,
Severed Heads,
John Foxx,
Prince Buster,
Funkadelic,
Qualms,
The Neon Judgement,
Aural Exciters,
Bronski Beat,
Arcadia,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Colin Newman,
Dual Sessions,
Sex Pistols,
Tres Demented,
Neil Young,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Dorothy Ashby,
FM Einheit,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Blackbyrds,
Frankie Knuckles,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Radio Birdman,
Alison Limerick,
the Human League,
Shuggie Otis,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Seeds,
Laurel Aitken,
L. Decosne,
Excepter,
Eddi Front,
Ultravox,
The Toasters,
Blake Baxter,
Sun Ra,
Cal Tjader,
Underground Resistance,
Eve St. Jones,
Bob Dylan,
Q and Not U,
Thompson Twins,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Golliwogs,
Sister Nancy,
This Heat,
Suicide,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Freddie Wadling,
Aswad,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux.
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.