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 Mozambique and from Seoul.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Mumbai.
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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the clarinet 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 New York Dolls to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 PIL. All the underground hits.
All Pierre Henry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rufus Thomas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Underground Resistance,
Camouflage,
Dorothy Ashby,
Second Layer,
Ituana,
Barclay James Harvest,
Pussy Galore,
Swans,
Jeff Mills,
Gerry Rafferty,
the Association,
Infiniti,
Q and Not U,
kango's stein massive,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Boz Scaggs,
Howard Jones,
The Last Poets,
Joensuu 1685,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Walker Brothers,
The Gladiators,
Matthew Bourne,
The Blackbyrds,
Black Bananas,
Lalo Schifrin,
Man Parrish,
Goldenarms,
Bill Near,
Radiohead,
Max Romeo,
Spandau Ballet,
Accadde A,
The Kinks,
Kenny Larkin,
Tears for Fears,
Eurythmics,
Todd Rundgren,
Tres Demented,
Brick,
Qualms,
Saccharine Trust,
Sight & Sound,
Soft Machine,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Aural Exciters,
Youth Brigade,
Rekid,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Star Department,
Glenn Branca,
OOIOO,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Jerry's Kids,
New Order,
the Slits,
Big Daddy Kane,
Supertramp,
the Germs,
Magazine,
Jerry Gold Smith,
the Fania All-Stars,
Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield.
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.