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 Mauritius and from Toronto.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 arpeggiator 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 Cecil Taylor to the jazz 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 Kerri Chandler. All the underground hits.
All Eve St. Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lindisfarne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bush Tetras,
Ornette Coleman,
Khruangbin,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
AZ,
Newcleus,
Los Fastidios,
The Smiths,
Tres Demented,
Darondo,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Lyres,
Hoover,
The J.B.'s,
48th St. Collective,
Smog,
Idris Muhammad,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Trojans,
Whodini,
Tears for Fears,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Maurizio,
Ronnie Foster,
MDC,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Don Cherry,
Tropical Tobacco,
Brand Nubian,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Public Enemy,
Drive Like Jehu,
Kerrie Biddell,
Yellowson,
Malaria!,
Funky Four + One,
Ohio Players,
The Velvet Underground,
The Offenders,
Godley & Creme,
The Last Poets,
Man Parrish,
Crispy Ambulance,
Sun City Girls,
Bronski Beat,
B.T. Express,
The Names,
Jeru the Damaja,
Donny Hathaway,
Easy Going,
Wolf Eyes,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Laurel Aitken,
Quadrant,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Kool Moe Dee,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Q65,
The Moleskins,
Lower 48,
Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade.
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.