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 El Salvador and from Lagos.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the organ 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 Duran Duran to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Lungfish. All the underground hits.
All The Alarm Clocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Vogues record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Germs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
Sällskapet,
Main Source,
The Trojans,
Little Man,
The Martian,
Eden Ahbez,
Joey Negro,
Colin Newman,
Harpers Bizarre,
John Foxx,
John Holt,
Anthony Braxton,
The Slits,
Brick,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Eddi Front,
the Bar-Kays,
Fugazi,
Kool Moe Dee,
Sun Ra,
One Last Wish,
Aloha Tigers,
The Neon Judgement,
Minny Pops,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sam Rivers,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
La Düsseldorf,
Guru Guru,
Skriet,
Scientists,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Modern Lovers,
Livin' Joy,
Rites of Spring,
Quantec,
The Vogues,
Lebanon Hanover,
Kevin Saunderson,
Mars,
Todd Terry,
Moby Grape,
The Index,
Animal Collective,
June Days,
The Move,
Robert Hood,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Cybotron,
Wire,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Pantytec,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Electric Prunes,
The Sound,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Lightning Bolt,
Tubeway Army,
The Divine Comedy,
Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti.
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.