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 Cyprus and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Pussy Galore. All the underground hits.
All Major Organ And The Adding Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Davy DMX 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spandau Ballet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Pretty Things,
Jacques Brel,
Model 500,
Amon Düül II,
Vainqueur,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Marvin Gaye,
Blake Baxter,
Tres Demented,
Curtis Mayfield,
Ultimate Spinach,
Johnny Clarke,
The J.B.'s,
Soul II Soul,
Massinfluence,
Anakelly,
Drexciya,
Eden Ahbez,
Vladislav Delay,
Archie Shepp,
Bad Manners,
Gang Green,
The Offenders,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Standells,
Marine Girls,
Stiv Bators,
The Gun Club,
The Fire Engines,
Flipper,
Eric Copeland,
T. Rex,
The Cramps,
LL Cool J,
The Doors,
Radiopuhelimet,
Hasil Adkins,
Joyce Sims,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Smog,
The Golliwogs,
Scratch Acid,
Sällskapet,
Drive Like Jehu,
Whodini,
Banda Bassotti,
The Five Americans,
Young Marble Giants,
Stereo Dub,
Barry Ungar,
Kaleidoscope,
Mantronix,
Peter & Gordon,
Howard Jones,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Leonard Cohen,
Davy DMX,
Fear,
Agent Orange,
Duran Duran,
Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton.
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.