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 Estonia and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 sitar 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 Max Romeo to the grime 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 David Bowie. All the underground hits.
All Whodini tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Porter Ricks 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James Chance & The Contortions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Sneak,
8 Eyed Spy,
Lalann,
Robert Görl,
Sandy B,
Index,
Gerry Rafferty,
Organ,
Sound Behaviour,
Charles Mingus,
Lebanon Hanover,
Alice Coltrane,
Newcleus,
Malaria!,
Shoche,
R.M.O.,
Arab on Radar,
Interpol,
Boogie Down Productions,
Don Cherry,
Gastr Del Sol,
Surgeon,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Black Sheep,
Echospace,
The Saints,
The Moody Blues,
Blossom Toes,
Warren Ellis,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Stooges,
Matthew Bourne,
The Slackers,
Ultra Naté,
Morten Harket,
Lightning Bolt,
Mandrill,
Erykah Badu,
Traffic Nightmare,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Alison Limerick,
Moss Icon,
Ohio Players,
The Knickerbockers,
Judy Mowatt,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Henry Cow,
Black Bananas,
Josef K,
Avey Tare,
Radio Birdman,
Rufus Thomas,
Minnie Riperton,
Magma,
Pagans,
X-102,
A Certain Ratio,
The Wake,
Darondo,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Scion,
Jeff Lynne,
The Victims, The Victims, The Victims, The Victims.
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.