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 Cape Verde and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Lou Reed 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 Fifty Foot Hose to the grime 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 Flamin' Groovies. All the underground hits.
All The Offenders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Delon & Dalcan 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fat Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
The Mojo Men,
Minny Pops,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Althea and Donna,
Suicide,
Ohio Players,
Bill Wells,
Supertramp,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Gun Club,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Pretty Things,
Nico,
the Slits,
Subhumans,
Jacob Miller,
Black Bananas,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Intrusion,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Toasters,
Scrapy,
Brand Nubian,
Scratch Acid,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Doors,
Aloha Tigers,
Robert Hood,
Y Pants,
Bang On A Can,
Unwound,
Don Cherry,
Zapp,
Mantronix,
The Misunderstood,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Zeros,
The Wake,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Dave Clark Five,
Johnny Clarke,
Von Mondo,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
DJ Sneak,
The Last Poets,
Excepter,
Theoretical Girls,
Siglo XX,
Dark Day,
Boogie Down Productions,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Kas Product,
Jacques Brel,
Grandmaster Flash,
Peter and Kerry,
Buzzcocks,
Erykah Badu,
Gastr Del Sol,
Average White Band,
The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers.
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.