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 Kenya and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Marc Almond to the grime 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 Dual Sessions. All the underground hits.
All Eli Mardock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every B.T. Express record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Qualms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Junior Murvin,
Ken Boothe,
Derrick Morgan,
The Durutti Column,
Bill Wells,
10cc,
Spoonie Gee,
Grauzone,
Arcadia,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Brothers Johnson,
R.M.O.,
kango's stein massive,
Barbara Tucker,
The Mummies,
Surgeon,
Pussy Galore,
The Trojans,
The Standells,
EPMD,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Terry Callier,
8 Eyed Spy,
Oneida,
Bluetip,
Cecil Taylor,
Sex Pistols,
Whodini,
K-Klass,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Piero Umiliani,
Godley & Creme,
Lungfish,
The Modern Lovers,
The Fuzztones,
Kevin Saunderson,
Moby Grape,
Adolescents,
Faraquet,
Little Man,
The Gladiators,
Kerri Chandler,
Metal Thangz,
ABC,
Jeff Mills,
Chrome,
Aloha Tigers,
Siglo XX,
Scott Walker,
Ronan,
Charles Mingus,
The Red Krayola,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Crooked Eye,
Tim Buckley,
Von Mondo,
Fad Gadget,
Bush Tetras,
John Coltrane,
Das Ding,
The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes.
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.