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 Cape Verde and from Columbus.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Johnny Osbourne to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Cure. All the underground hits.
All The Detroit Cobras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ash Ra Tempel 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ituana,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sixth Finger,
Lebanon Hanover,
This Heat,
Goldenarms,
Colin Newman,
Q and Not U,
Niagra,
The Blackbyrds,
Ohio Players,
Dave Gahan,
The Monks,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Thee Headcoats,
Pussy Galore,
Harry Pussy,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Durutti Column,
Ornette Coleman,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
A Certain Ratio,
Country Teasers,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Joey Negro,
Eli Mardock,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
E-Dancer,
Masters at Work,
Suburban Knight,
Magazine,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Black Pus,
Piero Umiliani,
Lower 48,
X-102,
Marmalade,
Jimmy McGriff,
Little Man,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Negative Approach,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Josef K,
Crispy Ambulance,
Reuben Wilson,
Brand Nubian,
Arthur Verocai,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Outsiders,
Byron Stingily,
The Sonics,
Stereo Dub,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Walker Brothers,
Joe Finger,
The Fortunes,
MDC,
Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents.
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.