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 Kenya and from Houston.
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 Delhi and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 808 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 Masters at Work to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Sound. All the underground hits.
All Boredoms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Byrd record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Average White Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sight & Sound,
Barclay James Harvest,
Marmalade,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Negative Approach,
Traffic Nightmare,
X-102,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Cowsills,
The Skatalites,
Nils Olav,
Kerri Chandler,
Morten Harket,
The Monks,
Gabor Szabo,
Blake Baxter,
Parry Music,
F. McDonald,
Dual Sessions,
Fear,
JFA,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
PIL,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Howard Jones,
The Alarm Clocks,
FM Einheit,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Mr. Review,
Kayak,
the Germs,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Gang of Four,
Byron Stingily,
The Doobie Brothers,
Juan Atkins,
Archie Shepp,
The Slackers,
Pharoah Sanders,
Liliput,
Monolake,
These Immortal Souls,
Isaac Hayes,
Little Man,
Depeche Mode,
The Gladiators,
L. Decosne,
The Victims,
Donald Byrd,
Joy Division,
Pet Shop Boys,
Deepchord,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Ultravox,
Rapeman,
Inner City,
The Happenings,
Public Image Ltd.,
Joyce Sims,
The Fall, The Fall, The Fall, The Fall.
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.