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 Afghanistan and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 Michael McDonald 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 Scratch Acid to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Barry Ungar. All the underground hits.
All Cal Tjader tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans 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 synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a This Heat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Thompson Twins,
The Dave Clark Five,
Sonny Sharrock,
Girls At Our Best!,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Brass Construction,
Scientists,
Thee Headcoats,
Morten Harket,
Soul II Soul,
Cluster,
Television Personalities,
The Selecter,
Make Up,
Howard Jones,
Gastr Del Sol,
Aaron Thompson,
Reuben Wilson,
Drive Like Jehu,
Leonard Cohen,
The Angels of Light,
John Coltrane,
The Zeros,
Animal Collective,
Country Teasers,
Sex Pistols,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Gap Band,
X-Ray Spex,
Letta Mbulu,
Jacques Brel,
Bronski Beat,
Interpol,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Joy Division,
E-Dancer,
Heaven 17,
Stockholm Monsters,
Ossler,
Todd Terry,
Crime,
The Star Department,
Eddi Front,
Nirvana,
Terrestrial Tones,
Boz Scaggs,
The Leaves,
Ultra Naté,
Section 25,
Laurel Aitken,
The Raincoats,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Skatalites,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Amon Düül II,
The Divine Comedy,
Delon & Dalcan,
Youth Brigade,
Bizarre Inc.,
Massinfluence,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders.
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.