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 Syria and from Manchester.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Lagos.
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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Arthur Verocai to the funk 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 Todd Terry. All the underground hits.
All Rufus Thomas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cecil Taylor record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minutemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bill Near,
Buzzcocks,
Supertramp,
Crash Course in Science,
Max Romeo,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Icehouse,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Cybotron,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Glenn Branca,
The Cramps,
Big Daddy Kane,
Infiniti,
Eve St. Jones,
FM Einheit,
PIL,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Fall,
Althea and Donna,
New Age Steppers,
Man Parrish,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Technova,
Slick Rick,
Fat Boys,
Fela Kuti,
The Smiths,
Jandek,
The Electric Prunes,
X-102,
Wally Richardson,
Scratch Acid,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Roxy Music,
Bang On A Can,
A Certain Ratio,
the Bar-Kays,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Popol Vuh,
Joy Division,
Negative Approach,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Real Kids,
Funky Four + One,
Gang Green,
Gregory Isaacs,
E-Dancer,
David Bowie,
June of 44,
Electric Prunes,
Tres Demented,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Warren Ellis,
Joyce Sims,
The Barracudas,
Blancmange,
Pantytec,
Gil Scott Heron,
Shuggie Otis,
Absolute Body Control,
Rotary Connection,
Gastr Del Sol, Gastr Del Sol, Gastr Del Sol, Gastr Del Sol.
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.