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 Guyana and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Edmonton.
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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Tres Demented to the grunge 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 Black Sheep. All the underground hits.
All Justin Hinds & The Dominoes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every cv313 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Altered Images 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?
Eve St. Jones,
Vainqueur,
Mo-Dettes,
Amazonics,
The Birthday Party,
Radiopuhelimet,
Fear,
Harry Pussy,
Tres Demented,
MDC,
Brothers Johnson,
The Beau Brummels,
Judy Mowatt,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Todd Terry,
Camberwell Now,
Harpers Bizarre,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pere Ubu,
Rosa Yemen,
Hot Snakes,
Aswad,
Eric Dolphy,
Gastr Del Sol,
Johnny Clarke,
Ultravox,
Panda Bear,
The Slackers,
Graham Central Station,
Drexciya,
Agent Orange,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Aural Exciters,
Rufus Thomas,
Bush Tetras,
Scientists,
John Cale,
Ralphi Rosario,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Jesper Dahlback,
David Bowie,
Outsiders,
Loose Ends,
Section 25,
The Golliwogs,
Con Funk Shun,
Patti Smith,
The Fall,
The Alarm Clocks,
Peter and Kerry,
Zero Boys,
June Days,
Rekid,
Alton Ellis,
Hasil Adkins,
John Holt,
Pantytec,
Subhumans,
The Offenders,
The Fugs,
Traffic Nightmare,
Q65,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.