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 Saudi Arabia and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Scrapy to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Misunderstood. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlback tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Starr 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 a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a kango's stein massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aural Exciters,
Marcia Griffiths,
Funky Four + One,
Cluster,
Freddie Wadling,
Oblivians,
Absolute Body Control,
The Invisible,
Easy Going,
Banda Bassotti,
Piero Umiliani,
The Divine Comedy,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Young Rascals,
The Alarm Clocks,
Yazoo,
Boz Scaggs,
Mary Jane Girls,
Aaron Thompson,
Cymande,
MDC,
Alison Limerick,
Slave,
CMW,
The Dead C,
The Gories,
Robert Hood,
Sparks,
Newcleus,
Ossler,
Rufus Thomas,
Glenn Branca,
Ronnie Foster,
The Fire Engines,
David McCallum,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Lee Hazlewood,
Vainqueur,
Harry Pussy,
Von Mondo,
The Sonics,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Duran Duran,
Severed Heads,
The Dirtbombs,
Rakim,
The Residents,
Bush Tetras,
Soulsonic Force,
Yellowson,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Lungfish,
Animal Collective,
B.T. Express,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Shadows of Knight,
Joy Division,
Gerry Rafferty,
Letta Mbulu,
Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine.
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.