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 Bhutan and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 chamberlin 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 Lou Christie to the grunge 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 Althea and Donna. All the underground hits.
All Porter Ricks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every OOIOO 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Susan Cadogan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Smog,
Motorama,
Agitation Free,
the Swans,
The Dirtbombs,
Scientists,
Gang Green,
Oneida,
Sexual Harrassment,
Johnny Osbourne,
Aural Exciters,
The Vogues,
Godley & Creme,
Mr. Review,
Youth Brigade,
Pierre Henry,
The Star Department,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
ABC,
Michelle Simonal,
The Names,
Underground Resistance,
Donald Byrd,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Arthur Verocai,
New Age Steppers,
The Monks,
Grey Daturas,
Unwound,
Marine Girls,
Audionom,
Jeru the Damaja,
Adolescents,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Susan Cadogan,
Cheater Slicks,
Gang of Four,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
the Normal,
Pharoah Sanders,
Blancmange,
Pole,
Aloha Tigers,
Peter & Gordon,
The Busters,
Bobby Womack,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Black Dice,
Pet Shop Boys,
Skarface,
Gerry Rafferty,
Lucky Dragons,
Scion,
Ralphi Rosario,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Howard Jones,
Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow.
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.