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 Mauritania and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Shanghai.
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 marimba 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 Ultra Naté to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Patti Smith. All the underground hits.
All Charles Mingus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Human League 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ajijia Myrayebe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quadrant,
Fatback Band,
Public Image Ltd.,
Max Romeo,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Pantytec,
Minny Pops,
Urselle,
Kenny Larkin,
Pharoah Sanders,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Smoke,
DJ Sneak,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Technova,
Arcadia,
Blancmange,
Sixth Finger,
Scrapy,
Henry Cow,
The Gun Club,
Lyres,
Ultimate Spinach,
Rosa Yemen,
Eli Mardock,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
F. McDonald,
Icehouse,
Moebius,
Heaven 17,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Silicon Teens,
Black Flag,
Sun Ra,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Tommy Roe,
The Misunderstood,
Sarah Menescal,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
John Lydon,
Procol Harum,
Motorama,
The Star Department,
Bang On A Can,
Flipper,
Scratch Acid,
John Coltrane,
Hasil Adkins,
David McCallum,
Joensuu 1685,
Nas,
The Angels of Light,
The Kinks,
Mr. Review,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lucky Dragons,
D'Angelo,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Kurtis Blow,
The Barracudas,
Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet.
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.