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 Tajikistan and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 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 Lebanon Hanover to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Technova. All the underground hits.
All Section 25 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool Moe Dee record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gastr Del Sol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Soft Cell,
Maleditus Sound,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Mantronix,
Cecil Taylor,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Gladiators,
Gerry Rafferty,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Tomorrow,
Byron Stingily,
the Fania All-Stars,
Black Flag,
Joyce Sims,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Joe Smooth,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Monks,
Severed Heads,
Aaron Thompson,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Henry Cow,
Make Up,
Bluetip,
Aural Exciters,
Harry Pussy,
The Gun Club,
Simply Red,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Walker Brothers,
One Last Wish,
Pharoah Sanders,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Neon Judgement,
Moebius,
Hot Snakes,
Black Sheep,
Hasil Adkins,
The American Breed,
Los Fastidios,
Boredoms,
Porter Ricks,
Shuggie Otis,
Ossler,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Icehouse,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Flesh Eaters,
Glambeats Corp.,
Tim Buckley,
Intrusion,
Sugar Minott,
The Stooges,
Excepter,
The Last Poets,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Todd Rundgren,
Fluxion,
The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds.
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.