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 Djibouti and from Johannesburg.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the organ 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 Ultramagnetic MC's to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Avey Tare. All the underground hits.
All Smog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every D'Angelo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lindisfarne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hoover,
China Crisis,
Japan,
Public Image Ltd.,
Camberwell Now,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Modern Lovers,
Flipper,
Nation of Ulysses,
Henry Cow,
Zapp,
Drive Like Jehu,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Bill Wells,
ABBA,
Con Funk Shun,
Sällskapet,
The Zeros,
Thee Headcoats,
Mars,
Marmalade,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Cramps,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
John Holt,
The American Breed,
T. Rex,
Judy Mowatt,
Crash Course in Science,
Gang Green,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Toasters,
Pantytec,
Quantec,
The Barracudas,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Neu!,
Bootsy Collins,
Carl Craig,
Dennis Brown,
F. McDonald,
Brick,
The Leaves,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Blues Magoos,
Ken Boothe,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Slackers,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Offenders,
Eden Ahbez,
Scientists,
Pere Ubu,
Gil Scott Heron,
Maleditus Sound,
The Alarm Clocks,
Y Pants,
New Order,
Donny Hathaway,
Robert Görl,
Faust,
Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins.
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.