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 Lebanon and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Paris.
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 organ 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 Saccharine Trust to the crunk 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 Divine Comedy. All the underground hits.
All Dave Gahan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Organ 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dark Day,
Faust,
Sonny Sharrock,
Mr. Review,
Kayak,
Index,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Sexual Harrassment,
Excepter,
Derrick May,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Mo-Dettes,
The Zeros,
Neil Young,
The Smoke,
Aloha Tigers,
Colin Newman,
Outsiders,
The Skatalites,
Tom Boy,
Crime,
Q and Not U,
Aswad,
Chris & Cosey,
Banda Bassotti,
Silicon Teens,
The Doobie Brothers,
Yaz,
David Axelrod,
Vladislav Delay,
Soulsonic Force,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Flesh Eaters,
Stiv Bators,
L. Decosne,
Duran Duran,
Crispy Ambulance,
Ronan,
The Electric Prunes,
In Retrospect,
Mad Mike,
Hardrive,
Gregory Isaacs,
Bill Wells,
Wings,
Boredoms,
The Pretty Things,
the Swans,
Kevin Saunderson,
Brass Construction,
Dorothy Ashby,
Grey Daturas,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Blackbyrds,
ABC,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Mummies,
La Düsseldorf,
Adolescents,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Barracudas,
Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin.
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.