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 Eritrea and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 Halifax and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 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 Grey Daturas to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Young Marble Giants. All the underground hits.
All Eric Dolphy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DNA record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Porter Ricks 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?
DJ Sneak,
Arab on Radar,
Patti Smith,
Heaven 17,
Curtis Mayfield,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Gun Club,
Eli Mardock,
AZ,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pussy Galore,
Tomorrow,
The Dave Clark Five,
Gastr Del Sol,
Cheater Slicks,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
London Community Gospel Choir,
FM Einheit,
Bootsy Collins,
John Cale,
Hardrive,
Excepter,
Kurtis Blow,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Darondo,
The Gories,
Lungfish,
Scan 7,
Henry Cow,
Thee Headcoats,
Model 500,
Stockholm Monsters,
Maleditus Sound,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Anthony Braxton,
Shuggie Otis,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Spandau Ballet,
Absolute Body Control,
8 Eyed Spy,
Boogie Down Productions,
Reuben Wilson,
Scrapy,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Fad Gadget,
The Dirtbombs,
Neu!,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Basic Channel,
Terry Callier,
Nation of Ulysses,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Ohio Players,
Chrome,
Jeff Lynne,
The Toasters,
Zero Boys,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Section 25,
Sight & Sound,
Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy.
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.