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 Chad and from Mexico City.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Johannesburg.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Hacienda.
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 T. Rex. All the underground hits.
All Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cowsills 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a One Last Wish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang of Four,
Yaz,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Harmonia,
Barrington Levy,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Peter and Kerry,
Minutemen,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Matthew Halsall,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Cybotron,
Lou Christie,
The Count Five,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Monks,
Rapeman,
The Human League,
The Raincoats,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Walker Brothers,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Soulsonic Force,
Bluetip,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Ultravox,
The Zeros,
Infiniti,
Boogie Down Productions,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Traffic Nightmare,
the Association,
Joey Negro,
The Pretty Things,
Josef K,
Cheater Slicks,
Deakin,
OOIOO,
Ronnie Foster,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Adolescents,
H. Thieme,
Kenny Larkin,
Goldenarms,
Man Parrish,
Cymande,
James Chance & The Contortions,
the Sonics,
Spoonie Gee,
B.T. Express,
Gregory Isaacs,
Shuggie Otis,
Funky Four + One,
The Smoke,
Mo-Dettes,
The Motions,
Thee Headcoats,
Groovy Waters,
Marine Girls,
Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim.
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.