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 Bahrain and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 Jakarta and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 U.S. Maple to the grunge 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 The Divine Comedy. All the underground hits.
All Swans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Womack 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
Ultimate Spinach,
Piero Umiliani,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Byron Stingily,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Heaven 17,
The Dirtbombs,
Animal Collective,
David Bowie,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Offenders,
Royal Trux,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Remains,
The Durutti Column,
Kas Product,
Young Marble Giants,
Chris & Cosey,
Symarip,
Altered Images,
The Young Rascals,
Intrusion,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Wings,
Shoche,
Sandy B,
Can,
Aswad,
L. Decosne,
Parry Music,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Johnny Clarke,
Flash Fearless,
Groovy Waters,
Das Ding,
Reuben Wilson,
Monks,
John Holt,
Buzzcocks,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
John Cale,
Hashim,
The Stooges,
Black Bananas,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Toasters,
Scan 7,
Lou Reed,
Aaron Thompson,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Ken Boothe,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Music Machine,
Lower 48,
Make Up,
Brand Nubian,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Martian,
Wire,
Accadde A,
Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters.
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.