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 Jamaica and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Curtis Mayfield to the disco 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 Young Rascals. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mark Hollis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Y Pants,
Lyres,
Eyeless In Gaza,
David McCallum,
Wire,
Inner City,
Delta 5,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Kinks,
Gerry Rafferty,
Aloha Tigers,
Darondo,
Marshall Jefferson,
T.S.O.L.,
Avey Tare,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Golliwogs,
Lalann,
Lou Reed,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Electric Prunes,
Sister Nancy,
Yazoo,
Audionom,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
the Sonics,
The Cowsills,
The Evens,
Japan,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Masters at Work,
Wings,
Davy DMX,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Leaves,
Traffic Nightmare,
Yusef Lateef,
The Martian,
The Velvet Underground,
Pussy Galore,
kango's stein massive,
The American Breed,
Roxy Music,
F. McDonald,
Angry Samoans,
Matthew Halsall,
Susan Cadogan,
the Swans,
the Normal,
The Names,
Howard Jones,
Sun Ra,
Ultra Naté,
Pierre Henry,
Pantaleimon,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Pharoah Sanders,
Eddi Front,
Soft Cell,
Tim Buckley,
Malaria!,
Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya.
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.