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 Azerbaijan and from Shanghai.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Freddie Wadling to the electroclash 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 Visage. All the underground hits.
All Shoche tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every KRS-One record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a KRS-One record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Barracudas,
Barry Ungar,
The Blues Magoos,
Donald Byrd,
The Black Dice,
Gang Starr,
X-102,
Y Pants,
The Tremeloes,
Little Man,
Scrapy,
Organ,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Ituana,
Cheater Slicks,
the Swans,
Gastr Del Sol,
Suburban Knight,
the Fania All-Stars,
Graham Central Station,
Kaleidoscope,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Thee Headcoats,
The Fire Engines,
The Electric Prunes,
Girls At Our Best!,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Angels of Light,
Easy Going,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Offenders,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Raincoats,
Letta Mbulu,
Pantaleimon,
Khruangbin,
Fluxion,
Motorama,
Young Marble Giants,
The Moleskins,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Black Sheep,
the Sonics,
Joe Finger,
Joey Negro,
Andrew Hill,
The Mummies,
Tubeway Army,
The Invisible,
Unrelated Segments,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Slits,
The Golliwogs,
Duran Duran,
Nils Olav,
Bad Manners,
Skriet,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Vainqueur,
John Coltrane,
Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses.
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.