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 Libya and from Madrid.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Desert Stars to the rock 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 The Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All Adolescents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sixth Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
Pole,
Fela Kuti,
the Human League,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
MC5,
Sam Rivers,
K-Klass,
Tropical Tobacco,
Gerry Rafferty,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Victims,
The Flesh Eaters,
Patti Smith,
Public Image Ltd.,
Charles Mingus,
Jandek,
Bang On A Can,
Mad Mike,
La Düsseldorf,
Roxette,
Thee Headcoats,
Roger Hodgson,
One Last Wish,
Delon & Dalcan,
Rites of Spring,
8 Eyed Spy,
Rapeman,
The Standells,
Lou Reed,
The Dead C,
Adolescents,
Judy Mowatt,
Pierre Henry,
Scientists,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Electric Prunes,
Jacques Brel,
Brand Nubian,
Fort Wilson Riot,
DJ Style,
Heaven 17,
The Sonics,
Parry Music,
Mark Hollis,
The Remains,
Matthew Halsall,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
E-Dancer,
Easy Going,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Barry Ungar,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Gang Gang Dance,
Aural Exciters,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Arthur Verocai,
Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy.
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.