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 Tanzania and from Edmonton.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Fugazi to the jazz 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 Blake Baxter. All the underground hits.
All The Buckinghams tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Toni Rubio 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fall record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Smoke,
Aaron Thompson,
cv313,
Thompson Twins,
Ralphi Rosario,
Robert Görl,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Gang Green,
Slick Rick,
The Moody Blues,
Yellowson,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Bobby Womack,
Shuggie Otis,
Public Image Ltd.,
Funky Four + One,
Ponytail,
Black Sheep,
Arab on Radar,
The Fall,
Suicide,
Niagra,
Wolf Eyes,
Sun Ra,
Babytalk,
Marmalade,
Dorothy Ashby,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
E-Dancer,
Adolescents,
Terry Callier,
The Human League,
Mantronix,
Lucky Dragons,
Rakim,
Tres Demented,
The Dirtbombs,
Lee Hazlewood,
Nas,
The Real Kids,
Gang Starr,
The Fuzztones,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Excepter,
Boz Scaggs,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Black Bananas,
Saccharine Trust,
The Techniques,
Max Romeo,
Wasted Youth,
Half Japanese,
A Certain Ratio,
Man Eating Sloth,
Q65,
Sex Pistols,
AZ,
Zero Boys,
Louis and Bebe Barron, Louis and Bebe Barron, Louis and Bebe Barron, Louis and Bebe Barron.
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.