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 Namibia and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 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 Bobby Womack to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Arcadia. All the underground hits.
All Bang on a Can All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hasil Adkins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Piero Umiliani record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crime,
Crispian St. Peters,
Maurizio,
Dawn Penn,
Sun City Girls,
Ronnie Foster,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Masters at Work,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Rapeman,
The Doobie Brothers,
Warren Ellis,
The Trojans,
Alton Ellis,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
AZ,
Bill Wells,
Fela Kuti,
Eden Ahbez,
Suicide,
UT,
The Mojo Men,
JFA,
China Crisis,
Kurtis Blow,
Electric Prunes,
The Kinks,
John Holt,
Sun Ra,
Porter Ricks,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Thee Headcoats,
Althea and Donna,
Freddie Wadling,
The Gap Band,
Saccharine Trust,
Ultimate Spinach,
Spoonie Gee,
Yellowson,
Khruangbin,
The Smoke,
Stetsasonic,
James White and The Blacks,
Deepchord,
Howard Jones,
Soul II Soul,
Kas Product,
Pussy Galore,
Reagan Youth,
Mad Mike,
Sonny Sharrock,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Make Up,
Swans,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Kevin Saunderson,
Nick Fraelich,
Quando Quango,
Y Pants,
Minutemen,
David Bowie, David Bowie, David Bowie, David Bowie.
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.