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 Angola and from Glasgow.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 marimba 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 Black Bananas to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Kinks. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bob Dylan 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soulsonic Force,
Essential Logic,
Shoche,
Fat Boys,
Section 25,
Arcadia,
Robert Wyatt,
John Foxx,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Piero Umiliani,
Don Cherry,
Zero Boys,
Alton Ellis,
Lyres,
Cybotron,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Slits,
John Lydon,
Grauzone,
Deakin,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Half Japanese,
The Victims,
Cecil Taylor,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Scion,
Altered Images,
Mary Jane Girls,
Brick,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Kerri Chandler,
Blossom Toes,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Agitation Free,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
EPMD,
The Barracudas,
Duran Duran,
Nico,
Suicide,
Pet Shop Boys,
Gregory Isaacs,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Beau Brummels,
The Stooges,
Mission of Burma,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Smiths,
Henry Cow,
Boogie Down Productions,
48th St. Collective,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Accadde A,
Rod Modell,
Monks,
Amon Düül,
Television Personalities,
Fatback Band,
Barbara Tucker,
Ken Boothe,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sugar Minott,
Wire, Wire, Wire, Wire.
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.