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 Liberia and from Delhi.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Kevin Saunderson to the techno 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 Andrew Hill. All the underground hits.
All Todd Rundgren tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magma record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Selecter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Subhumans,
Anthony Braxton,
Jerry's Kids,
Visage,
Quando Quango,
Unrelated Segments,
Todd Terry,
New York Dolls,
Fear,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Dave Clark Five,
Franke,
Erasure,
Oneida,
Man Eating Sloth,
Avey Tare,
The Durutti Column,
The Martian,
Tomorrow,
The Star Department,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Moby Grape,
Gabor Szabo,
June of 44,
Infiniti,
Ossler,
Little Man,
The Blackbyrds,
Thee Headcoats,
Underground Resistance,
In Retrospect,
Arthur Verocai,
James White and The Blacks,
Sound Behaviour,
Reuben Wilson,
Siglo XX,
Parry Music,
Ludus,
U.S. Maple,
Funkadelic,
Lebanon Hanover,
Bobby Womack,
The Grass Roots,
Eurythmics,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Music Machine,
Kevin Saunderson,
Letta Mbulu,
Fugazi,
The Remains,
Drive Like Jehu,
Cluster,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Faust,
Groovy Waters,
Althea and Donna,
Barbara Tucker,
The Velvet Underground,
Icehouse,
UT, UT, UT, UT.
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.