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 Ivory Coast and from Accra.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the snare 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 Buzzcocks to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Ronnie Foster. All the underground hits.
All Prince Buster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Shuggie Otis,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Pretty Things,
Glambeats Corp.,
Eli Mardock,
Tropical Tobacco,
Fad Gadget,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Wally Richardson,
Pussy Galore,
Mary Jane Girls,
Tomorrow,
Andrew Hill,
U.S. Maple,
The Gories,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Steve Hackett,
Amon Düül,
The Last Poets,
The J.B.'s,
ABBA,
the Sonics,
DJ Sneak,
Grandmaster Flash,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Buckinghams,
Rapeman,
Absolute Body Control,
Alton Ellis,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bob Dylan,
The Slits,
Joey Negro,
The Pop Group,
Theoretical Girls,
Pet Shop Boys,
Wolf Eyes,
Sex Pistols,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Danielle Patucci,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Intrusion,
Khruangbin,
Graham Central Station,
Donny Hathaway,
The Moody Blues,
KRS-One,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Camouflage,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
the Association,
Public Image Ltd.,
Von Mondo,
Grey Daturas,
Underground Resistance,
Ludus,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Moss Icon, Moss Icon, Moss Icon, Moss Icon.
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.