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 Egypt and from Sao Paulo.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 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 The Raincoats to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Music Machine. All the underground hits.
All Marshall Jefferson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Knickerbockers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cybotron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quantec,
Amazonics,
Kas Product,
Cheater Slicks,
Amon Düül,
Infiniti,
Rakim,
A Certain Ratio,
Khruangbin,
Qualms,
T. Rex,
Harry Pussy,
Metal Thangz,
The Knickerbockers,
Stereo Dub,
The Moleskins,
Nils Olav,
The Index,
Glenn Branca,
John Cale,
Mantronix,
Organ,
Eric Dolphy,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
One Last Wish,
Arthur Verocai,
Todd Terry,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Modern Lovers,
Soul II Soul,
Country Teasers,
Swans,
The Tremeloes,
KRS-One,
Anthony Braxton,
Zero Boys,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sam Rivers,
Tres Demented,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Sound Behaviour,
The Saints,
Junior Murvin,
The Offenders,
Groovy Waters,
Joe Smooth,
Bush Tetras,
Stetsasonic,
Pulsallama,
The Standells,
Television,
L. Decosne,
Saccharine Trust,
Audionom,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Television Personalities,
The Walker Brothers,
The Last Poets,
Lakeside,
The Fortunes,
Malaria!,
John Coltrane,
Pagans, Pagans, Pagans, Pagans.
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.