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 Seychelles and from Philadelphia.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Janne Schatter to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Sex Pistols. All the underground hits.
All Second Layer tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Letta Mbulu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Star Department record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Last Poets,
Faust,
Cal Tjader,
Hoover,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Moby Grape,
This Heat,
Eddi Front,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Eric B and Rakim,
New Age Steppers,
The Residents,
Minny Pops,
Zero Boys,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
X-101,
JFA,
DNA,
Anakelly,
Index,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Human League,
Connie Case,
The Durutti Column,
Warren Ellis,
LL Cool J,
Black Pus,
Pagans,
The Doors,
Lower 48,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Selecter,
Charles Mingus,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Essential Logic,
Anthony Braxton,
Gichy Dan,
Don Cherry,
Rod Modell,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Man Eating Sloth,
Peter & Gordon,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The New Christs,
Unrelated Segments,
Marvin Gaye,
Bauhaus,
Crispy Ambulance,
Fear,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Chrome,
The Slackers,
The Sound,
Swans,
Isaac Hayes,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Sound Behaviour,
Toni Rubio,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Siglo XX,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Raincoats,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.