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 Tuvalu and from New York.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Morten Harket. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Trumans Water record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Five Americans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tim Buckley,
Kaleidoscope,
Fat Boys,
Ossler,
Camouflage,
Erasure,
Johnny Clarke,
Robert Wyatt,
Sonny Sharrock,
Wings,
48th St. Collective,
Aloha Tigers,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
John Holt,
Sandy B,
LL Cool J,
Black Sheep,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Icehouse,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Pere Ubu,
OOIOO,
Mary Jane Girls,
Saccharine Trust,
PIL,
The Pop Group,
T. Rex,
Boredoms,
Vainqueur,
The Velvet Underground,
Rufus Thomas,
Angry Samoans,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Ice-T,
Marcia Griffiths,
Marshall Jefferson,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Morten Harket,
Youth Brigade,
Marmalade,
Scott Walker,
Con Funk Shun,
Alphaville,
Bill Near,
The Mojo Men,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Lakeside,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Radiohead,
The Monks,
H. Thieme,
Jeff Lynne,
Nils Olav,
Graham Central Station,
Sällskapet,
Funkadelic,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Black Pus,
Brand Nubian,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Dead C,
the Slits, the Slits, the Slits, the Slits.
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.