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 Germany and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Eric B and Rakim to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Kaleidoscope. All the underground hits.
All Funkadelic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stockholm Monsters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gastr Del Sol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Sandy B,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Marvin Gaye,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Hashim,
David Bowie,
Cecil Taylor,
The Cramps,
Arab on Radar,
Shoche,
Sugar Minott,
Rekid,
Jacob Miller,
Procol Harum,
Harpers Bizarre,
Khruangbin,
Wings,
Barbara Tucker,
Matthew Halsall,
Yusef Lateef,
The Moleskins,
The Black Dice,
Girls At Our Best!,
Qualms,
Throbbing Gristle,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Wolf Eyes,
Prince Buster,
Scan 7,
Flamin' Groovies,
Nils Olav,
Panda Bear,
Rakim,
Minny Pops,
John Foxx,
Skriet,
Matthew Bourne,
Amon Düül,
Slick Rick,
Bobby Sherman,
Colin Newman,
Vladislav Delay,
Surgeon,
Pharoah Sanders,
Ultravox,
Saccharine Trust,
Grey Daturas,
Country Teasers,
The Mojo Men,
Brothers Johnson,
Black Flag,
Ronan,
OOIOO,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Sister Nancy,
Fatback Band,
Depeche Mode,
Sound Behaviour,
Spandau Ballet,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth.
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.