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 Malawi and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Cameo to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Dave Clark Five. All the underground hits.
All Derrick May tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gregory Isaacs 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a London Community Gospel Choir record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-Ray Spex,
Crispian St. Peters,
Althea and Donna,
Rod Modell,
Franke,
Crooked Eye,
Michelle Simonal,
Au Pairs,
T.S.O.L.,
These Immortal Souls,
Dennis Brown,
World's Most,
Alice Coltrane,
Tommy Roe,
Sun Ra,
Johnny Osbourne,
Crispy Ambulance,
Popol Vuh,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Al Stewart,
Gerry Rafferty,
Zero Boys,
T. Rex,
MC5,
The Blackbyrds,
The Leaves,
Rites of Spring,
Panda Bear,
Black Bananas,
Rufus Thomas,
Janne Schatter,
Roxy Music,
Lee Hazlewood,
Mars,
Yusef Lateef,
the Sonics,
Mr. Review,
Charles Mingus,
Robert Hood,
Ralphi Rosario,
Duran Duran,
Pierre Henry,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Pantaleimon,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Skarface,
the Human League,
Malaria!,
The Black Dice,
Grey Daturas,
Crash Course in Science,
Lalann,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
New Order,
Monks,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Grandmaster Flash,
the Soft Cell,
Guru Guru,
Morten Harket,
Parry Music,
Ken Boothe,
The Martian, The Martian, The Martian, The Martian.
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.