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 Turkmenistan and from Copenhagen.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 The Smiths to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Peter & Gordon. All the underground hits.
All Jimmy McGriff tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 sitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gastr Del Sol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blues Magoos,
Neil Young,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sun Ra,
Newcleus,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Basic Channel,
Ken Boothe,
The Fortunes,
Angry Samoans,
Aural Exciters,
The Buckinghams,
Blancmange,
Ultra Naté,
Tubeway Army,
Swell Maps,
Mark Hollis,
Lindisfarne,
8 Eyed Spy,
Andrew Hill,
Royal Trux,
Flamin' Groovies,
Drive Like Jehu,
Max Romeo,
Gastr Del Sol,
Maleditus Sound,
John Coltrane,
Fat Boys,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Nik Kershaw,
Black Bananas,
Susan Cadogan,
Gang Gang Dance,
Chrome,
Animal Collective,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Trojans,
Carl Craig,
Slick Rick,
Joe Smooth,
Sonic Youth,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Mandrill,
Depeche Mode,
China Crisis,
The Sonics,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Kinks,
Henry Cow,
Pere Ubu,
Reuben Wilson,
H. Thieme,
Pussy Galore,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Banda Bassotti,
Fugazi,
Sex Pistols,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Outsiders,
E-Dancer,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282.
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.