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 Serbia and from Lyon.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
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 The Flesh Eaters to the funk 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 Eden Ahbez. All the underground hits.
All Hot Snakes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crash Course in Science record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Curtis Mayfield record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
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,
Terrestrial Tones,
Glenn Branca,
The Fortunes,
Boredoms,
Albert Ayler,
Mission of Burma,
Fat Boys,
Darondo,
Jawbox,
Stereo Dub,
James White and The Blacks,
Bobby Byrd,
Surgeon,
Connie Case,
Dawn Penn,
Freddie Wadling,
Bang On A Can,
Scientists,
Pere Ubu,
The Golliwogs,
Byron Stingily,
Parry Music,
Marcia Griffiths,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Carl Craig,
Brass Construction,
Kerrie Biddell,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Heaven 17,
Bobby Sherman,
Sugar Minott,
The Slits,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sam Rivers,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Fall,
Gil Scott Heron,
Rites of Spring,
Hashim,
Laurel Aitken,
Drexciya,
Moby Grape,
Archie Shepp,
Aswad,
H. Thieme,
Procol Harum,
Lakeside,
Fear,
Skarface,
The Electric Prunes,
Ituana,
Neil Young,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Public Image Ltd.,
Spandau Ballet,
Massinfluence,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Brothers Johnson,
Thee Headcoats,
Franke,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat.
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.