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 Turkmenistan and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Tremeloes. All the underground hits.
All Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed & John Cale 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a K-Klass record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Popol Vuh,
Harry Pussy,
Ronan,
Donald Byrd,
48th St. Collective,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Pierre Henry,
Jeff Mills,
Kool Moe Dee,
Michelle Simonal,
Gang Green,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Lucky Dragons,
MDC,
Matthew Halsall,
Pere Ubu,
World's Most,
Susan Cadogan,
Frankie Knuckles,
X-102,
The Gladiators,
Con Funk Shun,
Ice-T,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
T. Rex,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Peter and Kerry,
China Crisis,
Saccharine Trust,
Nick Fraelich,
Alton Ellis,
The New Christs,
Wolf Eyes,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Scrapy,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Average White Band,
Surgeon,
Wings,
Silicon Teens,
Gang Gang Dance,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Human League,
Tubeway Army,
In Retrospect,
The Dirtbombs,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Monochrome Set,
Magma,
The Gun Club,
Sonic Youth,
Swell Maps,
The Evens,
The Golliwogs,
R.M.O.,
Crime,
the Normal,
The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers.
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.