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 Equatorial Guinea and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 Michael McDonald 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 Sly & The Family Stone to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Quando Quango. All the underground hits.
All Bobbi Humphrey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camberwell Now record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Franke,
Mo-Dettes,
Rites of Spring,
Unrelated Segments,
June of 44,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Malaria!,
PIL,
Newcleus,
Oneida,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Make Up,
The Barracudas,
Gabor Szabo,
Scan 7,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Scott Walker,
the Normal,
Rekid,
Jerry Gold Smith,
JFA,
Connie Case,
Fluxion,
The Martian,
Iggy Pop,
The Offenders,
Althea and Donna,
The Neon Judgement,
John Holt,
The American Breed,
Fugazi,
Albert Ayler,
Yusef Lateef,
The Dirtbombs,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Dennis Brown,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ten City,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Organ,
Ice-T,
The Golliwogs,
Maurizio,
Bad Manners,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Chrome,
The Selecter,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Smoke,
Sam Rivers,
Joey Negro,
Robert Hood,
Letta Mbulu,
Nils Olav,
New Order,
Ultimate Spinach,
Los Fastidios,
The Sound,
X-102,
Oblivians,
Kaleidoscope,
The Beau Brummels,
Joensuu 1685, Joensuu 1685, Joensuu 1685, Joensuu 1685.
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.