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 Ecuador and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 arpeggiator 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 Girls At Our Best! to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Brick. All the underground hits.
All Eric Copeland tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crime record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Carl Craig,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Stereo Dub,
Procol Harum,
New Age Steppers,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Flamin' Groovies,
Barry Ungar,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Wally Richardson,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Wolf Eyes,
David Axelrod,
Neu!,
Das Ding,
Newcleus,
Bronski Beat,
Sun City Girls,
Kayak,
Johnny Osbourne,
Intrusion,
the Soft Cell,
The Black Dice,
Harmonia,
D'Angelo,
The Smoke,
The Sonics,
New Order,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Move,
Ronan,
Drexciya,
Simply Red,
Boredoms,
Susan Cadogan,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Cluster,
Isaac Hayes,
Scrapy,
Half Japanese,
Rakim,
X-101,
Banda Bassotti,
MDC,
Dawn Penn,
Ultimate Spinach,
Moby Grape,
The Beau Brummels,
Saccharine Trust,
Pharoah Sanders,
Judy Mowatt,
Pussy Galore,
Sparks,
Bobby Sherman,
Rekid,
Lindisfarne,
Q and Not U,
Mr. Review,
The Last Poets,
Hot Snakes,
Minny Pops,
Donny Hathaway,
Parry Music,
Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill.
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.