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 Brazil and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Mo-Dettes 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 Roger Hodgson. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moby Grape record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Selecter,
Alton Ellis,
Peter & Gordon,
Buzzcocks,
Vainqueur,
The Searchers,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pere Ubu,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Gap Band,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Supertramp,
Rakim,
Janne Schatter,
Yellowson,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Walker Brothers,
Tomorrow,
Slave,
Saccharine Trust,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
the Swans,
The Birthday Party,
Blancmange,
Davy DMX,
Altered Images,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Neon Judgement,
Joe Finger,
Roger Hodgson,
The Blues Magoos,
Das Ding,
Juan Atkins,
Nation of Ulysses,
Mad Mike,
Maurizio,
June Days,
Nico,
Arcadia,
Severed Heads,
The Monks,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Sexual Harrassment,
Tubeway Army,
Isaac Hayes,
Organ,
K-Klass,
Boredoms,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Dorothy Ashby,
Grandmaster Flash,
the Bar-Kays,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Dawn Penn,
These Immortal Souls,
The Names,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Black Dice,
The Seeds,
John Foxx,
Eric Copeland,
Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound.
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.