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 Nepal and from Madrid.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the dance 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 Mr. Review. All the underground hits.
All Lakeside tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T. Rex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magazine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Andrew Hill,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Magazine,
Todd Terry,
John Holt,
Bobby Sherman,
The Five Americans,
Unwound,
Television,
R.M.O.,
Ultravox,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Iggy Pop,
The Slackers,
Chrome,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Motions,
Public Enemy,
Alphaville,
Mars,
Gil Scott Heron,
Gong,
Anthony Braxton,
Albert Ayler,
Dark Day,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Blackbyrds,
Livin' Joy,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
World's Most,
Traffic Nightmare,
Susan Cadogan,
The Alarm Clocks,
Unrelated Segments,
Outsiders,
Essential Logic,
Jandek,
The Grass Roots,
Sun Ra,
The Fuzztones,
Bill Wells,
Infiniti,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Soulsonic Force,
Mandrill,
Pantytec,
Metal Thangz,
The Seeds,
The Blues Magoos,
Angry Samoans,
Toni Rubio,
L. Decosne,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Roxy Music,
Swell Maps,
Soft Cell,
Gregory Isaacs,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
John Coltrane, John Coltrane, John Coltrane, John Coltrane.
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.