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 Kosovo and from Beijing.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the guitar 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 Freddie Wadling to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Talk Talk. All the underground hits.
All Henry Cow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Metal Thangz record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Axelrod record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Index,
Joey Negro,
Pet Shop Boys,
Lalo Schifrin,
Ten City,
Derrick May,
Avey Tare,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Durutti Column,
Maleditus Sound,
Lucky Dragons,
Cal Tjader,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Zero Boys,
Magma,
The Real Kids,
The Saints,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Gong,
The Names,
Unrelated Segments,
The Star Department,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Stockholm Monsters,
Todd Rundgren,
Blossom Toes,
T. Rex,
Barrington Levy,
Rosa Yemen,
Be Bop Deluxe,
One Last Wish,
Alton Ellis,
Eddi Front,
The Searchers,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Scott Walker,
the Association,
Gang of Four,
Fugazi,
Los Fastidios,
Boredoms,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Faraquet,
D'Angelo,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bush Tetras,
Spandau Ballet,
Minny Pops,
Excepter,
Marine Girls,
Ralphi Rosario,
Tom Boy,
The Skatalites,
Pharoah Sanders,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Clear Light,
MC5,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Alarm Clocks,
This Heat,
Stiv Bators,
Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter.
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.