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 Benin and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the rock 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 Lee Hazlewood. All the underground hits.
All Lindisfarne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every kango's stein massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Josef K 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?
John Holt,
The Cramps,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Eric Copeland,
Gabor Szabo,
Althea and Donna,
The Slits,
Aural Exciters,
Henry Cow,
The Gladiators,
Yaz,
The Gap Band,
Niagra,
FM Einheit,
Hot Snakes,
Jerry's Kids,
Rotary Connection,
Matthew Halsall,
Audionom,
Susan Cadogan,
Camouflage,
Adolescents,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
L. Decosne,
Jeff Lynne,
Bootsy Collins,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Lou Christie,
Television,
Drexciya,
AZ,
The Trojans,
H. Thieme,
The Vogues,
Eli Mardock,
Wire,
Sight & Sound,
Interpol,
Black Pus,
the Swans,
Peter & Gordon,
The Golliwogs,
Cluster,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Marc Almond,
PIL,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Misunderstood,
Barry Ungar,
Moebius,
The Buckinghams,
Simply Red,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Moody Blues,
Spandau Ballet,
Todd Rundgren,
Judy Mowatt,
Funky Four + One,
Hashim,
Radiohead,
Janne Schatter,
Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk.
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.