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 Palau and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Erykah Badu to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Ornette Coleman. All the underground hits.
All Liaisons Dangereuses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Goldenarms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Royal Trux,
Soft Machine,
Andrew Hill,
Magma,
Letta Mbulu,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
the Human League,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bobby Byrd,
Moss Icon,
Aloha Tigers,
Boz Scaggs,
Stockholm Monsters,
Pere Ubu,
CMW,
Heaven 17,
Quadrant,
Johnny Clarke,
Lightning Bolt,
Agitation Free,
Bill Near,
AZ,
Scan 7,
Monks,
Scott Walker,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sound Behaviour,
Mr. Review,
Susan Cadogan,
Camouflage,
The Gun Club,
The Tremeloes,
Iggy Pop,
Pylon,
Siglo XX,
Delon & Dalcan,
Sun City Girls,
Blossom Toes,
Grandmaster Flash,
Marmalade,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Lebanon Hanover,
Dark Day,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Freddie Wadling,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Saints,
Sonic Youth,
The Martian,
New Age Steppers,
Trumans Water,
Beasts of Bourbon,
ABBA,
X-Ray Spex,
Cheater Slicks,
Pagans,
Albert Ayler,
Second Layer,
Niagra,
The Walker Brothers,
Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai.
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.