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 Canada and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 arpeggiator 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 Mary Jane Girls to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Jerry Gold Smith. All the underground hits.
All Dark Day tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mark Hollis 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thee Headcoats record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABC,
the Swans,
Sarah Menescal,
a-ha,
Supertramp,
Alton Ellis,
Thompson Twins,
Porter Ricks,
Amazonics,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Gang of Four,
Mission of Burma,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Ken Boothe,
Audionom,
Bronski Beat,
Jacques Brel,
Deakin,
The New Christs,
Nation of Ulysses,
Babytalk,
Bill Near,
The Vogues,
Kerri Chandler,
Traffic Nightmare,
Ornette Coleman,
Flipper,
Tubeway Army,
Urselle,
DJ Style,
The Black Dice,
Gang Green,
The Gladiators,
Roxy Music,
Cluster,
Sugar Minott,
Idris Muhammad,
Letta Mbulu,
Rhythm & Sound,
New York Dolls,
Interpol,
kango's stein massive,
Jeru the Damaja,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Zeros,
Chris Corsano,
One Last Wish,
Siglo XX,
AZ,
Vainqueur,
EPMD,
The Kinks,
Black Bananas,
The Pop Group,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Index,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Crime,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Lyres,
Talk Talk,
Echo & the Bunnymen, Echo & the Bunnymen, Echo & the Bunnymen, Echo & the Bunnymen.
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.