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 Somalia and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark to the disco 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux. All the underground hits.
All Echospace tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Be Bop Deluxe 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Smog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tom Boy,
Minny Pops,
CMW,
Fugazi,
Kevin Saunderson,
Brand Nubian,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Robert Görl,
Amon Düül II,
Stetsasonic,
Harmonia,
X-102,
Deakin,
Audionom,
Harpers Bizarre,
Avey Tare,
Q65,
Bobby Byrd,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Barry Ungar,
Dual Sessions,
Bush Tetras,
Blossom Toes,
Johnny Clarke,
The Dirtbombs,
Duran Duran,
The Happenings,
Kerri Chandler,
The Slackers,
Thee Headcoats,
Althea and Donna,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Fad Gadget,
This Heat,
The Neon Judgement,
Main Source,
Buzzcocks,
Spoonie Gee,
Gang of Four,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Pierre Henry,
Gang Starr,
Bauhaus,
Monolake,
Bobby Womack,
Barclay James Harvest,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
L. Decosne,
Urselle,
Clear Light,
Black Sheep,
Donny Hathaway,
Tomorrow,
New Age Steppers,
The Techniques,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Index,
the Germs,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Sun Ra,
B.T. Express,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Arab on Radar,
Reagan Youth, Reagan Youth, Reagan Youth, Reagan Youth.
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.