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 Nigeria and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 linndrum 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 These Immortal Souls to the rap 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 The Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Camouflage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Popol Vuh record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Be Bop Deluxe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pharoah Sanders,
Electric Prunes,
Crispy Ambulance,
Con Funk Shun,
Crispian St. Peters,
8 Eyed Spy,
John Holt,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Young Marble Giants,
Sandy B,
Darondo,
the Human League,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Durutti Column,
D'Angelo,
The Real Kids,
Matthew Bourne,
New York Dolls,
Roxy Music,
Unwound,
Nirvana,
Index,
the Soft Cell,
The Cramps,
Mantronix,
DJ Style,
MDC,
Marmalade,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Five Americans,
Trumans Water,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Piero Umiliani,
Susan Cadogan,
Neu!,
Gang of Four,
Massinfluence,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Donny Hathaway,
Sarah Menescal,
Ituana,
Tropical Tobacco,
Youth Brigade,
Sister Nancy,
Jeru the Damaja,
Talk Talk,
Desert Stars,
Steve Hackett,
Alison Limerick,
Kayak,
The Blues Magoos,
Gabor Szabo,
Loose Ends,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Fluxion,
Nik Kershaw,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bobby Byrd,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.