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 Turkmenistan and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 Calgary and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 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 The Dave Clark Five to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Glenn Branca. All the underground hits.
All Symarip tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fela Kuti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boz Scaggs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Metal Thangz,
Wolf Eyes,
Accadde A,
Wings,
Scientists,
Mandrill,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Agent Orange,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
T. Rex,
David McCallum,
Thee Headcoats,
Clear Light,
John Foxx,
B.T. Express,
Wally Richardson,
X-102,
Ken Boothe,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bobby Womack,
The Human League,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Dead C,
Derrick Morgan,
Lungfish,
The Red Krayola,
Oblivians,
Faust,
Television,
The Monks,
The Real Kids,
Intrusion,
The Doors,
Black Moon,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Nirvana,
The Golliwogs,
The Names,
The Monochrome Set,
Man Parrish,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Eurythmics,
Visage,
Gastr Del Sol,
Fluxion,
the Swans,
The Beau Brummels,
the Soft Cell,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Inner City,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Remains,
Neil Young,
Scan 7,
Yusef Lateef,
Hashim,
Section 25,
Unrelated Segments,
Ultravox,
Hot Snakes,
Ralphi Rosario, Ralphi Rosario, Ralphi Rosario, Ralphi Rosario.
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.