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 Tunisia and from Mumbai.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Aural Exciters to the grime 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 Cluster. All the underground hits.
All The Residents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dawn Penn record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fugazi record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gun Club,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Selecter,
Soft Machine,
Bobby Womack,
Sonny Sharrock,
Slave,
Black Moon,
Ultimate Spinach,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Residents,
Mad Mike,
Bobby Byrd,
Reuben Wilson,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Lungfish,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Infiniti,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Camouflage,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Tom Boy,
Dave Gahan,
The Sound,
Alice Coltrane,
Jesper Dahlback,
John Foxx,
Arab on Radar,
Deadbeat,
Donald Byrd,
Letta Mbulu,
Altered Images,
Iggy Pop,
Deepchord,
Chris & Cosey,
These Immortal Souls,
Archie Shepp,
Max Romeo,
The Trojans,
Buzzcocks,
Youth Brigade,
Mission of Burma,
The Kinks,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Scientists,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Lou Reed,
Yusef Lateef,
KRS-One,
Sparks,
Fad Gadget,
The Barracudas,
Section 25,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Amon Düül II,
The Offenders,
John Coltrane,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Avey Tare,
The Martian,
Delta 5, Delta 5, Delta 5, Delta 5.
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.