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 Bolivia and from Edmonton.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the electroclash 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 Offenders. All the underground hits.
All Swell Maps tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Zapp record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Livin' Joy,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Misunderstood,
Aswad,
Frankie Knuckles,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Magazine,
The Invisible,
The Divine Comedy,
Vladislav Delay,
Sexual Harrassment,
Moebius,
Bang On A Can,
Todd Terry,
Jeff Mills,
Soul II Soul,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Malaria!,
The Seeds,
Bill Wells,
The Residents,
Spandau Ballet,
The Skatalites,
Negative Approach,
Intrusion,
The Gories,
The Mummies,
Robert Hood,
A Flock of Seagulls,
the Association,
Letta Mbulu,
Eddi Front,
Fatback Band,
Marmalade,
The Detroit Cobras,
Zapp,
Black Flag,
Clear Light,
Ken Boothe,
KRS-One,
Skarface,
48th St. Collective,
Procol Harum,
JFA,
Pantytec,
The Smoke,
Slave,
Dawn Penn,
Freddie Wadling,
Aural Exciters,
Rotary Connection,
Bad Manners,
Dual Sessions,
Jeff Lynne,
Ronan,
Pulsallama,
The Pretty Things,
Bob Dylan,
Buzzcocks,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Standells,
Warren Ellis,
Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control.
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.